Sanity is Overrated
by CircusRunaway
Summary: Izaya has to figure out what's wrong with his marbles before he loses them completely. But who can you trust when your own mind is deceiving you? Shizuo/Izaya.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This one's dedicated to all my beloved readers. And I need all of you to virtually stone me to death if I begin a new story before finishing this one. Love you guys!**  
><strong>

**Rated: **T (might eventually go up. I haven't decided yet if I want my sandwich made with light fluff or hot smut...)

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<br>"Incredibly Sucky Prologue"  
>(aka don't judge a fanfiction by it's prologue)<strong>

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><p>"You're depressed."<p>

I laugh without hesitation, but there's no feeling behind it.

"Izaya, I'm serious," Shinra snaps. "You look awful lately. I didn't need you to ask for sleeping pills to know you're not sleeping. And you've lost weight." He wears a scowl on his childish face, and the attempt to look worried is pathetic.

"You can't possibly think," I pause to chuckle, "that someone like me would catch something so human!"

"You don't _catch_ depression-"

"Shinra," I say, smiling coldly. "Drop it."

For the record, I know I'm depressed. I can't eat or sleep, and my lack of motivation has caused business to be painfully slow. I've tried everything from exercise to anti-depressants, but nothing works.

So why did I hide all this from Shinra, the one man who can help me?

Because I can't risk opening up to anyone. My image is what I base my life off of. I care more about what I think of me than what others think, and by opening up, I'd lose all respect for myself.

And I don't want anyone to know how terrified I am.

What? Surprised that the great Orihara Izaya is afraid of a mental illness? Well, let me do my job and inform you of something. Depression isn't just a disease. _It's a symptom. _Depression occurs in the early stages of many diseases and disorders. It's like marijuana- only instead of being a gateway drug, it's a gateway symptom. It's a warning sign, if you will, that things might be going downhill from here on out.

For example, depression could indicate a number of things. Bipolar disorder, Hypothyroidism, Lupus, Porphyria, PTSD, Schizophrenia, Hypopituitarism, and mad cow disease are just a few instances where depression is among the multitude of symptoms.

But moving on… I have to get out of here before my smiling façade slips.

"I should really be getting back to my work," I say abruptly, gliding over to the door. "Thanks for the sleeping pills, Shinra!"

The underground doctor frowns, looking like he wants to say something before I leave.

I shut the door before he can.

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><p><strong>AN:** You should all know that this will be an extremely angst-ish story, but in an extremely fun-sarcastic-ish way! I have found a new love for writing Izaya's inner turmoil from his own POV. And no, this fic is most definitely NOT about depression. Because that would be depressing...

Do you guys like where this is headed? Let me know :D

**Love, CircusRunaway**


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating:** I decided to make this M, not for guaranteed smut, but because this will get incredibly violent and… insane. So be warned.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own this, blah blah blah.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<br>"Waking Up Upside-Down"**

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><p><em>Time: 12:48 pm<br>Location: on the move  
>Status: unsettled<em>

Making my way home from Shinra's, I notice how the streets of Ikebukuro are painfully loud. Cars rolling past send vibrations against my eardrums, their tires crunching stones and leaves into the pavement. The birds are making shrill noises. I will never understand why people love waking up to the sound of birds so much. In all honesty, birds might be one of the most annoying creatures on Earth. They just don't know when to shut up.

"I-za-ya!" I almost jump a little when Simon calls out to me. I don't remember walking here. "You come eat sushi? We have special today, half price. Good sushi!"

I approach Simon, and our conversation drawls on for a bit. It's weird, though. I don't feel like I'm actually there; it's like I'm watching the conversation from somewhere else. My mouth stops moving mid-sentence, because I have no clue what I was saying, or what we were just talking about. Simon looks at me, his confusion obvious.

"Haha, sorry Simon. I just forgot that I have something to do. Bye!" I say hurriedly, turning around and walking toward my apartment. My cell phone shivers in my pocket.

_Shiki: You missed our meeting this morning._

Huh. I completely forgot about that. I guess I was too busy going insane.

I mentally slap myself for being so nonchalant about this. There is no valid excuse for skipping an appointment with a member of the Yakuza. I quickly send my reply, setting a new time and date for our meeting. I don't even bother making up an explanation for my absence. My phone hums again.

_Shiki: You have one more chance._

Oooh, the intimidation technique. Too bad it's actually working.

I look up, surprised to find myself unlocking my door already. Namie's on the other side, sorting through the papers I left for her on my desk. The shuffling of feet in the apartment next door becomes even louder after I close the door behind me.

"Where have you been," asks Namie, but I can tell she doesn't really care. She's used to me coming and going without telling her the details. The shuffling next door falters, and I hear a cabinet slam.

"Oh, you know, business," I sigh dramatically. As I plop down in my swivel chair, I hear children screaming in the street below the apartment building. "The world is noisy today, isn't it?" I wonder aloud, locking eyes with my reflection in the window.

I look like something that just crawled up from the grave. The dark circles under my eyes look more like bruises than bags. At least I haven't lost too much weight, considering I haven't really eaten in the past few days. But I have to fix that. Weight loss is a sign of mental illness, and I have to save myself before it can take hold of me.

"Namie," I say suddenly, spinning around to face her. "Pick me up some lunch."

She scoffs at being ordered around, but hey, that's what she's here for. She leaves, and I quickly get up and climb the stairs to my loft, laptop in hand. One by one, I select the books I need from the selves and settle onto the floor.

Self-diagnosis often ends in misdiagnosis. But this is me we're talking about. I don't make mistakes.

"Let's see," I murmur to myself, flipping through the ink-filled pages. I refrain from talking aloud any longer, because that wouldn't be helping the situation at all.

_You can still talk to yourself in your head,_ I remind myself.

I hurriedly correct my word choice. _You mean, __**I **__can still talk to __**myself**__ in __**my**__ head._

Wait, did I just… never mind.

My laptop whirs to life, and I begin my search. With pen in hand, I realize too late that I forgot the paper. You might call it laziness, but I call it "too far in-the-zone to go back down and get a notebook." I decide to scrawl on the wall next to me instead, crossing out depression immediately after I write it. Schizophrenia is next, and I almost cross it but stop myself. If I'm not careful, I'll be crossing out every possibility and there will be nothing left.

Bipolar disorder is written next. Then, anxiety disorder. The list goes on, taking up much more space on the wall than I thought it would. The ceiling fan spins violently, casting shadows over the letters as they begin to blur together. I stare at the words, aka the multiple paths my future could take. The not-so-bad ones, the fatal ones, everything. It's almost too much. Maybe I'm a hypochondriac. What a relief that would be.

I hear Namie shuffling in the kitchen, and I wonder how long she's been back. I go down and find her making tea, which I take for myself eagerly. I'm suddenly starving. My stomach feels like it's eating itself. The tea burns my throat, but I ignore the feeling and pour some more.

"You're going to be sick," Namie says, slapping my hand away when I go for my fourth cup. I down it just to spite her, ignoring her glowering stare.

"Karma's a bitch, but not to me," I sing, and I hear a door click open in the distance. Namie rolls her eyes, pouring the rest of the tea into a bottle and handing it to me. I gratefully take it, drinking some more. I feel a little light-headed. "You didn't poison me, did you?" I ask, stumbling slightly. "And where's my food? I thought I told you to pick up some lunch."

"Uhm. What are you doing?" A hesitant voice from behind startles me, and I lurch around to find Namie standing in the doorway.

"How'd you geddover there?" I slur, furrowing my eyebrows. I look over to where she had just been standing next to the kettle. It's empty, obviously, since she's standing over by the door.

"I just got back from buying lunch…" says Namie. She holds up a bag of takeout ootoro as proof and frowns. "Who were you talking to? And isn't it a little early to be drinking?"

I freeze, following her gaze down to my hand. The bottle of tea is now an empty bottle of booze.

Well, shit.

At my lack of response, my assistant simply sighs and walks into the other room. I feel so loved. I drop the bottle in the sink as if it were contaminated, instantly feeling sick. I need fresh air. I grab my coat, and without another word, I leave Namie and the ootoro behind.

All I can hear as I step out into the sun is my heartbeat. My fowl mood drops even lower as I realize it's like a timer, ticking away the beats I have left until my mind is completely out of my control.

_And when that happens, _a voice somewhere says, _the empire you have spent so long building will destroy you._

But I won't let that happen. Even if I lose my mind, no one will ever know except me.

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><p>I shouldn't be this nervous. Why am I so nervous?<p>

I glance behind me again, sure that there's someone following me. Ever since I left the apartment, I've had this feeling of someone watching me. But why should I be affected? I've got my switchblade. I've been stalked before.

It isn't helping that my stomach keeps clenching sickeningly. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since I drank all that alcohol without having anything to eat for days.

Someone whispers behind me. I can't take this anymore.

Swiveling around, I find the sidewalk empty.

_Great_, I think. _This is just what I need. Paranoia._

I'm about to go back to walking when something stirs in the corner of my eye. Suspicion takes over, and I creep over to the shadows with my switchblade in hand.

_Woosh_.

"Ha!" I breathe, slicing at the figure. The shadow lurches forward and knocks me back. I stumble, clutching my stomach as it threatens to heave up the liquid sloshing around.

Celty frantically runs over and steadies me. I curse my foolishness. Of course Shinra would be enough of a worrywart to send Celty to follow me. I wasn't being paranoid, afterall. That's something good to think about.

What _isn't_ good to think about is the fact that the world won't stop spinning. And for all you smartasses out there, yes, I know the world always spins. Douche bags.

Celty pushes her PDA in my face, and I squint to read it. _"Shinra sent me. Are you okay?"_

I step away from her, standing upright in an attempt to look healthy. "I'm perfectly fine," I smile, but my swaying says otherwise. Celty forms a helmet and holds it out to me like an offering. I shake my head, determined to keep up my image. In doing so, a wave of nausea hits me and I clench my teeth to keep from throwing up.

The PDA is in front of me again. _"You don't look fine."_

My teeth are starting to hurt from clenching them together. I swallow dryly and try to speak, clamping down harshly again when I feel bile rising in my throat.

"I'm fine, so you can go now," I manage to croak. Suddenly, pain explodes in the side of my head, and the air I didn't know I'd been holding in escapes all at once.

And then I'm on the sidewalk, not knowing which way is up or down, because the colors are blurring together, and the ground is swallowing me whole, and I'm drowning in the sky. But one voice rings through my ears and causes my stomach to flip.

"IIIIIIIZZZZZAAAAAYYYYAAAA-KUUUUNNN!"

But before he can throw something else at my head and color the concrete with my blood, I roll onto my hands and knees, gagging and coughing until my face collides with the vomit spreading beneath me.

And all I can think about is how stupid I must look right now, and how desperately I need to get out of this place. I'm going to die a weak being, stuck halfway between losing my dignity and losing my mind. I need to get back to Shinjuku. I should never have left my apartment.

Because I can't stand being with anyone other than myself when even I can't figure out what's happening to my own mind.

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><p>It's weird waking up upside-down.<p>

It's also weird waking up slung over your enemy's shoulder, while he's riding on the back of a possessed motorcycle being driven by a legendary creature.

"Shizu-chan, what the hell do you think you're doing?" my voice remains calm and mocking, even though I'm freaking out on the inside. I'm barely audible over the rumble of the bike. Shizu-chan tightens his grip on me, and I squirm.

"Quit fidgeting, louse, or I'll drop you."

Honestly, I wouldn't mind. I start to kick in attempts to break free, but Shizu-chan won't let go. Celty slows down her bike, and I look up in dread to see Shinra's apartment building looming over us.

"Let me go! I'm too busy for this bullshit!"

The bike stops, and Shizu-chan unceremoniously drops me, earning a harsh smack from Celty. I use this moment to run, but I don't take more than three steps before something yanks me back by my hood.

"Ack!" I cry, and suddenly my feet aren't touching the ground. Shizu-chan is holding me up from my collar, like a puppy being scolded by its mother.

"Behave yourself," Shizu-chan growls. I can tell it's taking all of his effort not to demolish my face with his fist. "We're taking you to see Shinra."

"The only people I need to see right now are my clients," I spit, reaching down for my switchblade. Shizu-chan grabs my wrist with his other hand and squeezes in warning. I narrow my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much pain I'm in. I hear a crack, and I know it's broken, but I don't even flinch.

"Well great, now I really do have to go see Shinra," I sigh. My insides are screaming in agony. "Only a _monster_ like you would go to such lengths to prove me wrong."

I went too far, apparently. He cranks his arm back, and I relax my body. It's a proven fact that upon impact, it's better to relax your body instead of tensing up. This prevents major injuries. That's why, in drunk driving accidents, it's usually the drunk driver who gets away unscathed while the other car's occupants are fatally injured. The inebriate is relaxed and calm because they don't know what the fuck is going on, while everyone who's sober instinctively brace themselves for the crash. It's ironic, really.

Pressure explodes in my chest and I feel my back smashing into something hard. I smile once before everything goes black again, enjoying the self-hate etched across every feature on Shizu-chan's face.

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><p>I regain consciousness with a cast on my wrist, bandages around my chest and head, and a caveman in my face.<p>

"What the hell?" I exclaim, sitting up and knocking foreheads with Shizu-chan. I stifle a groan as he grins and walks to the door. I ignore the throbbing in my head, willing it to go away. I still feel kinda drunk.

"Shinra, he's awake," Shizu-chan calls out, stepping aside as the physician bustles into the room.

"You've been out for hours. How do you feel?" asks Shinra, scribbling something down on a chart. The etching of the pen is unbearably loud.

"Fine."

He looks at me doubtfully. "Izaya, you had alcohol poisoning, a broken arm, and two cracked ribs. Now, how do you feel?"

Alcohol poisoning? I look away to hide the panic gripping my insides. I didn't even mean to drink any alcohol. I don't remember opening the bottle in the first place.

"I'm fine," I repeat, gripping the sheets. Shizu-chan snorts from the doorway.

"Just tell the truth, flea," he snarls. "You must feel at least as bad as you look."

Ouch. "So mean, Shizu-chan~!"

"Stop it with the nickname, you little-"

"Shizuo," interjects Shinra. He glances over at me and I realize I'm holding my head. It feels like it's about to split open.

"Ah," I drop my hands, my mind racing for an excuse. "I'm just a bit tired. I should probably head back." I slip out from under the covers, steadying myself before walking over to grab my coat off a chair.

"But Izaya-" Shinra stops talking when I hold my switchblade to his throat. His eyes widen in panic. I've never physically threatened Shinra before. I know this might be going too far, but the throbbing in my head is getting worse. I need to get back to my apartment. I need to figure out what's happening.

"What the hell?" Shizu-chan barks, taking a step toward me. I spin around so I'm behind Shinra, using him as a hostage and making Shizu-chan freeze. Shinra gasps when I press my switchblade closer. I can feel his heart racing.

But my heart is racing, too.

_You're hurting your friends, _something tells me.

But I have to hurt them. If I don't hurt them, they'll hurt me. Or what's left of me. I need to get them to leave me alone.

_And they're not even my friends, _I think. _They don't care about me._

I should just kill them. It wouldn't be that hard. A simple slip of my blade and Shinra would be on the floor. Shizu-chan would attack me, and I could use his rage against him, guiding the brute to the balcony and then watching him fall. Celty would be another problem, though. How do you kill someone who walks around without a head?

I snap out of it when said headless woman is suddenly next to me, gripping my switchblade and ripping it out of my grasp. I don't fight, too shocked at what I almost just did. I fall onto the floor, gripping my head when a voice shrieks out of nowhere.

"I SHOULD JUST KILL YOU! KILL YOU KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL!"

I look up at Celty, who stands over me with my own switchblade in her hand. My mouth falls open when I realize that I'm hearing Celty's voice. Shinra and Shizu-chan are behind her, laughing mercilessly at me.

"KILLLL!" The voice shrieks, and her hand comes up, ready to strike. Car brakes screech outside. Birds squawk. Footsteps shuffle, children laugh, someone screams. The noises assault my mind, splitting my skull in two and ripping into my brain.

I scream, scrambling away and into the corner. The walls start to fold, and the angle I'm sitting between narrows rapidly. I can't breathe. My mind is reeling. Something grips my wrist, and I claw at it, trying desperately to break free.

Suddenly, everything goes quiet. I wait a moment, catching my breath, before glancing back up at the room. Celty is still standing over me, reaching out both hands as if to stop me from doing something. My switchblade is nowhere in sight. The room is normal, the walls where they should be, and Shinra makes the first move. He clicks a mini flashlight, running over to shine the light into my eyes. He sets it down quietly, not taking his gaze off mine as he slowly moves and places a hand over my own.

Surprised, I look down and notice my good hand gripping my cast. My fingers are clawing into the mesh plastic, blood seeping up underneath my nails. I let Shinra gently pry my fingers away, before I glance up and meet Shizuo's eyes dead-on.

And I suddenly can't do this. With energy I don't really have, I shove Shinra away and jump to my feet. Before anyone can say or do anything, I'm gone, running out of the building and towards my apartment, my sanctuary, where I can lose my mind alone and in peace.

_It can't get any worse than this, _I think.

But something tells me it can, and it will. I don't know where the thought came from, but I know it's right.

At least I'm not crying.

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><p><strong>AN: **In case you guys didn't get it, Izaya hallucinated the whole thing with Namie. At least up until the point where she actually _did_ come home with ootoro.**  
><strong>

So what do you guys think is wrong with Izaya? Haha this is so fun, it's like a mystery novellll!  
>I hope I kept them all in character throughout this. Next chapter won't be so dark!<p>

**Love, CircusRunaway**


	3. Chapter 3

**Rated: **M  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Of course not duhhhh

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<br>"Seek Immediate Medical Care**_"_

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><p><em>Time: 11:02 pm<br>Location: home base  
>Status: on a mission<em>

I walk into the apartment. Namie is gone. Turning on the computer, I open a new search box. I've only googled for something once before… and I can't believe I just used "Google" as a verb... but I try to avoid such inferior means of obtaining information. Except that I'm sort of in a pickle at the moment, so I guess it can't be helped.

_h a l l u c i n a t i o n s __

I scroll past wikipedia and down to the more reliable sources. If you can call them that.

…_senses of things that aren't there while a person is awake or conscious._

_Can be seen, heard, smelt, felt, or tasted…_

…_seek immediate medical care._

Tch, stupid. Oh look, a back button… click!

Weird how I give other people information so easily. Yet when I'm the one in need of data, I can't seem to find it.

The screen blurs. I rub my eyes, not ready to go to bed. The letters on the screen won't come back into focus.

I blink.

I'm in bed. I don't remember going to bed. Didn't I just say I wasn't ready to go to bed?

My clothes are still on. Ugh, how uncomfortable. I hear the front door click open through my bedroom walls, and I glance at the clock.

_Time: 7:59 am  
>Location: my bed<br>Status: confused_

Namie must be here. Weird, she's a whole minute early. My head spins when I get up, reminding me of my empty stomach. It must be the size of a raisin now, it's been so long since I fed it.

I walk rather slowly out of the bedroom and into the open loft of my apartment. My eyes won't stay open. I feel more tired than usual. When they finally manage to stay open long enough to register the scene in front of me, I grin.

Namie is standing in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and her mouth open. She looks so dumb. I wish I had a camera. Oh wait!

My eyes land on my cell phone still resting on the desk. It's not plugged in. And I always plug it in at night. Right next to my bed. But here it is, on the desk, with the battery slowly draining instead of charging. Huh. So much for a picture.

"Namie, are you planning on standing there all day?" I switch my focus back to my assistant. Her gaze is still fixed on a spot above my head, and she moves her hand to point.

"Izaya, what…" she trails off. I frown, turning around to see what all the fuss is about.

The small list of words I scrawled on the wall yesterday has spread. And by spread, I mean the words fucked like rabbits and spewed babies all over the rest of the wall. From the ceiling to the floorboards, the words bunched together in corners and splattered across the white paint. Most of them were unreadable, either too small to decipher or too large and spread out.

I make out a few, though. Most of them diagnoses: bipolar disorder, delirium, dementia, schizophrenia, brain tumor, multiple personality disorder, and others I've never even heard of. Which is weird, considering the fact that they're written in my handwriting. But my eyes flicker between certain words, different words, which look as though they've been carved into the wall by my switchblade.

And now I'm feeling an emotion I don't quite recognize.

"Get out," I order abruptly, rounding on Namie. She doesn't move. "Namie," I hiss. Ice drips from the word, and she slowly backs away.

"But, my work-"

"I'll pay you. Get out."

I'm pushing her now. She stumbles, craning her neck in attempts to look at the wall again.

"Are you-"

"I'll contact you when I need your assistance," I say, pushing Namie out the door. She spins around with her mouth agape (still), but before she can protest I add, "Don't worry, you will receive your regular pay until then. Consider this your vacation time."

"What? Hey-!"

I slam the door. My hands are shaking. I'm shaking. I turn and lean back against the door, listening to Namie's receding footsteps and curses. I don't know how long I stand there. Eventually, my trembling knees are too much, and I let myself slide down to the floor. The door whispers against my clothes and I stop, wrapping my arms around my legs and letting my head fall forward.

Exhaustion.

Something's wrong with me. I'm messed up. More than usual.

I swallow hard. Building up the courage to look again. It takes all my strength to lift my head in the slightest, peeking through my raven hair at the wall.

**_W E A K N E S S _**

**_ F O R G O T T E N_**

**_D E A T H_**

**_ S U F F E R_**

**_ A L O N E_**

_._**_  
><em>**

**_Y O U C A N T H I D E._**

"You can't hide," someone whispers, startling me. The voice seems to echo around the room, and I suddenly recognize it as my own. How stupid. I'm afraid of my own voice.

The letters on the wall expand, squeezing all the air out of the room. My lungs slowly constrict. I can't breathe.

_You can't hide._

Hide from what? Or who? I need air! Did I write this, or did something else happen last night? Breathe! Is someone trying to scare me?

DING~DONG~!

Jesus Christ! Calm down heart, it's just the-

DING, DING, DING, DING~DONG~!

-doorbell. Seriously? Sheesh. I bet you a million bucks it's Shinra.

DING, DING, DING~

I pull myself to my feet and crack open the door. Sure enough, there's Shinra with his finger holding down the small button on the wall.

DONG~!

And letting it go.

"Oh, Izaya!" says the doctor, looking genuinely surprised that I'm home. I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Hello, Shinra," I say. I make sure not to open the door enough for him to see the chaos behind me. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I was just checking up to see if you, er," he hesitates. "I mean, after what happened yesterday, I just wanted to see if I could do a quick check up on you."

I blink. "You want to experiment on me? No thanks."

I try to push the door shut, but a foot stops me.

"Wait! I… Well you see, what happened wasn't exactly normal. And no offense, but you look even more like shit today. I think it would benefit you if I ran some quick tests, just to make sure it's nothing serious."

"No." I begin pushing his foot out of the way with my own.

"Can I at least ask you a couple of questions?" asks Shinra desperately. I pause, considering the offer. I guess a couple of questions can't hurt…

"Ugh, fine," I say, making sure it sounds like he's inconveniencing me. I open the door a little wider, but I don't invite him in. He notices this, but says nothing. Sliding his foot away, he takes a deep breath before speaking.

"Have you been seeing or hearing things that aren't actually there?"

I slam the door. Shinra's muffled voice reaches me through the wood.

"Izaya! Open up. You have to talk to me!"

Ha! I don't have to do anything.

"You can't stay in there forever!"

Watch me.

"Izaya, you need help," his voice takes on a gentler tone now. He sounds worried. I hate it. "If we don't figure out what's going on soon, it could get a lot worse."

"Nothing is wrong with me, Shinra," I sigh. "I'm just busy lately. In fact, shouldn't you be working right now?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I am doing no such thing. I'm simply trying to get you to leave," I state haughtily.

Shinra is silent for a moment. I'm beginning to think he left, and I relax. But then his voice reaches me yet again.

"…You've been hallucinating, haven't you?"

I choke on nothing in particular, but I shouldn't be surprised that he knows. After all, what happened to me in his apartment isn't exactly hard to figure out. I look up at the wall, cringing against the words. There's no denying my own handwriting.

When I don't respond, Shinra asks, "Izaya?"

I could let Shinra take a quick look at me now. You know, try and stop this thing before it gets out of control. By doing so, I would lose a chunk of my dignity. Would it be worth it? The words I don't remember writing on the wall burn holes through my retinas, infesting my brain with a choice.

Do I choose **_W E A K N E S S _**or do I do this** _A L O N E_** ?

"I'm fine, Shinra. Sorry to make you worry. Yesterday was a one-time thing. Apparently even I get stressed out," my voice assures him lightheartedly through the door. I ignore the nagging desire to tell him the truth. "If it ever happens again, which I highly doubt it will, I'll come to you immediately."

"Are you sure?" He sounds doubtful.

"Positive." No turning back. "Goodbye, Shinra."

I don't stay and listen for him to leave like I did with Namie. Instead, I walk to my computer. Maybe I can find some clues as to what happened last night. Before I can turn it on, however, my phone buzzes.

_Shiki: You're late._

God officially hates me.

* * *

><p>"Orihara-kun," Shiki's gruff voice greets me as I nod and take my seat across from him. He lights a cigarette and leans back, puffing small clouds of smoke in the dim light of the warehouse. We sit in silence for a minute, and I take it as my queue to talk.<p>

"So," I begin calmly, "what services can I offer the yakuza this time?"

Shiki smirks, letting out another trail of smoke before speaking. "You always get right to the meat of things, don't you," he comments. "I expect no less, though, after you missed our last meeting. _And _you had the nerve to show up late today."

"Ah, yes," I wave my hand dismissively and think up a lie. "I apologize for my rude behavior. I ran into an unexpected obstacle on the way. I'm sure you've heard of Ikebukuro's notorious monster, Heiwajima Shizuo?"

"What a coincidence," Shiki says. "That's exactly the person I wish to discuss."

"The protozoan? What do you want to know?" I ask with a grin. This is going to be an easy job. I already know almost everything about Shizu-chan.

Shiki, however, frowns. "This job might require you to do some work, Orihara-kun."

"What's so difficult to find out that I don't already know it?" I ask, genuinely curious now.

"See, here's the thing," Shiki says, leaning forward and snuffing out his cigarette. Dramatic effect. "The boys in the lab have taken a recent interest in Heiwajima's strength. The assignment is simple, really. All you have to do is retrieve a sample of blood from Heiwajima, completely free of any outside substances or materials, and we'll exchange it for a healthy sum of compensation."

I want to laugh, because there's no way he's serious. He can't be serious… but Shiki doesn't make jokes. Not funny ones, at least. And this is funny, so he has to be serious. Right?

"What do you mean by 'free of any outside substances or materials'?" I ask, deciding to move the conversation along.

"It means you have to transfer it directly from his blood stream to the vials," Shiki responds. He rummages through his pocket and pulls three small objects out. "These vials, actually."

He's serious.

I stare at the items he places in my hands. I can't believe Shiki is asking me to do this. This level of information… it can only be described as doing his dirty work! I'm fully aware that I may be the only person capable of achieving this mission, but still!

"This is going to cost you a fortune," I warn him.

"Can you do it?" he asks.

"Can the yakuza afford it?" I counter him.

"If you complete this assignment for us," Shiki replies, lowering his voice, "you'll never have to work another day in your life."

I roll the vials around in my palm, watching as the dim light glistens off the glass. I love my job too much to ever stop, and Shiki knows this. He knows that even if I receive that amount of payment for this job, he can still count on me for information in the future. He knows that I'm not in it for the money.

But most importantly, Shiki knows I'll do this job because of the challenge. He knows how much this kind of thing holds my interest.

"Consider it done," I tell him, slipping the vials in my coat pocket. They chink melodiously, as if signally the end of our meeting and the beginning of our agreement.

A few more comments are made, and then I'm on my way home. I choose to take the long way, since it's the middle of the day and I've got time to kill.

And yeah, I'm sort of hoping to run into the subject of my latest assignment. It's not that hard to figure out where he is. Just follow the sounds of people screaming and buildings crumbling.

Ah, there he is.

"Shizu-chan! I thought I heard the annoying sound of a temper being lost," I sing. An object- undoubtedly a heavy one- whizzes past my head and into a shop window.

"And I thought I smelled something rotten," growls Shizu-chan, ripping his spectacles off his face. His employer sighs and begins strolling away. "Get the fuck out of here, louse, before I break your scrawny neck."

The street we're on is almost empty, but the noise around me suddenly explodes against my eardrums. It's like someone decided now would be a good time to turn the volume up on my imaginary hearing aid.

I sway slightly, fighting the urge to clap my hands over my ears. The birds are drilling songs in through my temples, those cars might as well be rolling over my brain with their tires, and my pulse is drumming obnoxiously throughout my body. It seems like every fucking sound within a mile radius is punching me in the sides of my skull. And I hide all of this from Shizu-chan.

Or, at least I try to.

"You sure you're up for a fight, flea? I'll give you one chance to get out while you still can," smirks Shizu-chan. I can't help but twitch as he talks, his voice grating unpleasantly against my nerves. He starts towards me, but abruptly halts when he thinks of something. "Fuck, you're not gonna go all crazy in the middle of the street, are you?"

The noises are slowly quieting down, and I quickly regain my composure.

"Sh-Shizu-chan is worried about me?" I feign feeling flustered, and ooh not only was that alliteration, but it finally got the reaction I wanted out of Shizu-chan.

He turns red with anger and begins pulling a streetlight out of the cement. I can still hear his breathing as if he's right next to me. While his back is turned, I run at him with a vile in one hand and my switchblade in the other.

"GAHHHH!" he roars, swinging the pole around before I get near enough to stick him. I dodge, noticing how uncomfortably close Shizuo was to hitting me that time. The vibration of the metal as it swings again rings through the air, and I hear him curse under his breath.

This is no fun. I'm too weak right now to get near him. And I can't get at his blood from this far away… Better get out of here on my own before I lose the little energy I have left. A direct approach like this probably isn't the best option anyway.

So I turn, running as fast as my legs can take me. They seem weaker than usual, and I fight the urge to turn around and see how far behind Shizu-chan is.

But eventually, my goddamn legs turn to jelly. Really, when did I let myself starve and shrivel up into this? Someone point me to the nearest fast food chain so I can get myself a cheeseburger.

_Run, _I tell my legs, urging them forward. But they keep slowing down. I stop. Wobble over to the nearest wall. With a ridiculous amount of effort, I drag myself into the shadows of an alleyway incase Shizu-chan followed me all the way here.

Where was here, anyway? I look up and immediately recognize the street sign separating Shinjuku from Ikebukuro. I'm a little surprised that I made it all the way here. I'm incredibly surprised that I'm surprised about such a usually trivial thing in the first place.

I breathe out, letting myself slide down the brick wall. I can feel my jacket snag against the rough stones, but I don't bother caring. And I sort of just let myself think about absolutely nothing.

Until someone shouts my name.

"Yeah, that's him," comes a nasally voice nearby. I tense, knowing I'm in trouble. My head is so full of noises I can't think properly (unless I'm thinking about absolutely nothing, it turns out), and I know I won't be able to run. My stomach churns like a man making butter at the mere thought of standing up.

So I put on a big smile, touching my switchblade weakly as the gang approaches me. I'd say there are a good twenty people surrounding me now.

"Hello," I greet sweetly. "And to whom do I owe this pleasure?"

"Shiki-san sent us," one of them steps forward. And sure enough, I recognize him as a member of the yakuza, his small beady eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. "Not gonna lie, I thought you'd be harder to track down."

I sigh impatiently, scanning the crowd clogging up the alleyway. "And your boss sent you here to do what? Throw me a party?"

"You could say that," the beady-eyed man smirks. Some of the other men snicker, but the rest appear nervous. I frown. They all have weapons.

"What are we celebrating?" I ask cautiously.

"Shiki-san's love for discipline," he says, nodding to someone on my right. Something hard cracks against the side of my face. I fall to the side. A sea of shoes swims in my vision. My flesh scrapes against the concrete. I was unprepared for that. "He punishes those who disappoint him, see?" the guy continues. "And you've disappointed him."

Oh. Shiki-san must have heard about me fleeing the fight earlier. I never knew he acted on such short notice. I also never knew he was the type to give me one fleeting chance to complete my assignment before sending his drones after me. Which is weird, because I sort of know everything.

Someone else is talking now, multiple people, and I'm strangely thankful for the unnatural decrease in volume. It's like being underwater. A shoe lifts me off the ground when it digs painfully under my ribs.

I feel like I'm dying. It's kind of nice, actually. Just letting myself accept the pain, my muscles relaxing against the reality of my situation. But then something slices me. It slices twice across my left forearm, and a different objects slashes swiftly across my upturned cheek, barely missing my eye.

This is when I remember my own slice-tastic weapon.

So I jump up and grab my trusty ole switchblade. This is going to end. Now. Don't ask me where this spontaneous rush of adrenaline came from, because I honestly have no idea.

Christ, since when am I so informatively disabled?

But as I was saying, I, Orihara Izaya, am no wimp. Consequently, I will not allow myself to become pathetic enough as to blissfully accept the fate of being beaten to death in an alleyway by a bunch of nobodies. Especially when they smell like fish and piss.

And as soon as I'm up, blade flashing dangerously, everything goes black. But not before I can appreciate the look of pure terror playing across everyone's faces.

When I finally regain consciousness, I'm unlocking my apartment. Blood is running down my arm and dripping off the key. My clothes are soaked with the warm sticky liquid, and I'm not sure if all that red belongs to me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Cliffhanger! Sorry for the wait you guys, I promise I'll update faster next time.

Also, THANK YOU EVERYBODY FOR ALL THE REVIEWS. I know the prologue really sucked, but I just had to get it out there, and I wasn't surprised when I didn't receive many comments. But all you fantastic reviewers made up for it in the second chapter .

Hope this isn't moving too slow… Hope this chapter was okay…

**Love, CircusRunaway**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Are disclaimers really necessary? Because, I mean, really? Me owning anything, other than some socks maybe? And whaaat a draaaag to wriiiiite theeese.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<br>"They're in the Wall"**

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><p><em>Time: 8:45 pm<br>Location: bathtub  
>Status: annoyed<em>

The blood won't come off.

I've been scrubbing for hours. The water is a murky pink, but I won't bother draining it until I can get all the blood off of me. My skin is raw from the shower sponge, and my cuts sting.

I groan in frustration. No matter how much I scrub, it won't come off! I'm starting to feel lightheaded and I realize I've probably lost a lot of blood by now. And I don't even know whose blood it is! Why the hell can't I remember anything?

"_You should probably get out now."_

I slip on the edges of the tub, sputtering bloody water out of my mouth.

"_Ew, now the germs are in your blood stream and your digestive system," _the voice says.

Who the fuck is in my bathroom? Grabbing the shower curtain, I pounce out of the tub and grab my flick blade from the counter, swinging it around.

The bathroom is empty.

"Shit," I curse, my muscles staying tense as I make my way out of the bathroom. The apartment is silent, and I bite my tongue to keep from yelling out a questioning hello. People always do that in horror movies. And we all know how that turns out. The blonde girl with big boobs will be all like, "hello?" and she opens the door and BAM! Out pops the serial killer and off pops her head.

So instead of calling out, I go into stealth mode. That way, the intruder has no idea where I am.

It's called common sense, people.

My head is spinning, but I ignore it. My cuts scream in pain. I ignore that, too. I pretty much ignore everything except the suffocating silence of the apartment, broken only by the ticking of a clock and the beating of my heart.

"_He's got a knife."_

The blade guides me as I spin around. The whisper came from somewhere around my desk. I approach it, not bothering to keep the noise level down since the person- or multiple people- can apparently see me. The wall with the words on it sneers down at me as I pass by.

"You should know better than to break into the dwelling place of Orihara Izaya," I comment loudly, swiftly ducking around and slicing under the desk.

The hard wood splinters against my switchblade.

"_His aim is off,"_ says another voice. It sounds like a child.

This time, I can't help myself. "Hello?" I ask. I stand up straight. A draft blows over my naked body, and I shiver.

"_Hello,"_ the child answers.

"_He's scared,"_ whispers the first voice. _"He's dying."_

The child laughs.

"HELLO?" I shout this time. My voice cracks.

"_You're alone,"_ a new voice chimes in. _"You're alone, and you're dying."_

"_Are you afraid of death?"_

I swing my switchblade, slicing through the air. Wherever these voices are coming from, they need to end. They need to die.

"_You would kill us? You would take Death's job for yourself?"_

I shout out nothing in particular, running into my kitchen and opening all the cabinets. They have to be here somewhere. After pulling everything from the shelves and emptying the fridge, I stop to think.

_Be rational, _I tell myself.

"_But he's already done Death's job today."_

… The loft!

I run back into the main room, my eyes set on the open loft. The words glow eerily against the surrounding wall, but I run past them, grimly aware of the stingy scent of blood coming from their letters.

I run up the stairs, pulling out the books from the shelves. I rip through the pages, sending them fluttering down to the main room and littering my desk with irrelevant information.

"_Are you suffering?"_

"_Where are your friends?"_

"_You don't have friends, do you."_

"STOP!" I shriek. I slash against the books, destroying what is left of my files and encyclopedias. I take a few staggering steps backward, feeling my stomach drop when my foot meets the air.

And then I crash down the stairs.

"_Look how weak he is," _chuckles a voice when I finally come to rest on my back. I stare blankly up at the writing on the wall, which drips a vibrant shade of red.

"Blood," I say, to no one in particular.

And then it hits me. I connect the dots. The words on the wall… weakness, forgotten, death, suffer, alone… the people in my apartment are reflecting my thoughts on the wall.

They were here when I wrote it.

I was here when I wrote it.

I remember.

I remember searching the Internet. I remember becoming frustrated, the endless list of possibilities blinding me through the computer screen. A voice telling me to give up, that I was dying and couldn't save myself.

I see myself, furiously scrawling the words. And when my last pencil breaks while scrawling _MPD_, I scream, grabbing my switchblade and etching in the words…

I see myself going to bed without saying goodnight to the world. Without so much as glancing at my beloved humans out the window.

I'm laying on the floor again. The words on the wall smell like blood.

The wall is bleeding.

"Blood," I repeat, the words bouncing back and hitting me in the face.

Blood!

THEY'RE IN THE WALL!

Tightening my grip on my weapon, I roll over and begin hacking at the surface. The drywall falls apart under the blade, revealing wooden planks and insulation. I pull the fluffy pink stuff out, a little surprised at the scratchy feeling it leaves on my skin. Not at all like cotton candy.

But then my head start spinning again, and I remember how weak I am. I remember how much blood I've lost.

"_He really is dying," _says the voice.

I collapse, staring up at the mutilated wall. The words are still visible, and I watch as they spin around, getting farther and farther away.

The clock ticks distantly.

And now I'm back on the street. I must be dreaming… _no, a flashback_, I realize, because I know the men around me. I can feel my muscles coming back full force, and I can hear their screams as my switchblade cuts their lives short.

I watch myself kill them all, one by one.

And then I'm alone.

I'm back in my apartment, I'm still staring up at the walls. I killed them, and I don't feel a thing. Maybe relief, but that's it. I think I should feel something, since they were the first people I have ever killed directly. But I feel nothing.

I turn on my side, away from the wall, and hug my knees to my chest. This is the second time I've been in this position today. Or is it tomorrow? I can't tell, since the light from my window could be the sun rising or the city lights at night. It's all the same. I shiver, but I don't have enough energy to dry myself off or get dressed. I stare at the floor, waiting for something to happen.

I don't know what I'm waiting for.

Where did the voices go? I would almost welcome them in this darkness. I'm sick of being alone. I need someone to suffer with me, to see me weak and close to death. Someone who won't forget me.

Time slips away from me. I move in and out of consciousness, and through blurry eyes I can see the light from the window grow brighter. It's morning.

"_We won't forget you,"_ whispers the child.

I feel myself smile. I can sense small arms wrapping around me, holding me like my parents might have. But I don't remember my childhood.

All I know is that I welcome this newfound warmth, those voices. Because now, I can be alone in my downfall without ever being lonely.

I fade out again. I dream of nothing.

* * *

><p><em>BOOM!<em>

I wake up just in time to see my door fly open. Through the crack of my eyelids I can make out the fuzzy shape of a man, yelling something as he storms in. I can't hear what the person is saying. His voice is muffled as if my ears are submerged in water. But I know it's Shizu-chan, because only his voice could possibly reach me at a time like this.

In my current state, I have no strength to move. He spots me. I say nothing. He yells some more. I say nothing. His feet are by my face now. I don't move.

Shizu-chan bends down, and I locate a frown on his face. What a surprise. But this frown isn't the normal frown. There's something about it, but I don't know what.

He touches the cut on my face, and my breath hitches. He moves the same hand down, and I feel him run it along the gashes on my wrist. I'm sore everywhere. Those guys really beat the shit out of me. Good thing I killed them.

I feel my body being lifted off the floor. Everything fades to black, and then I'm asleep.

I wake up. Shizu-chan is wrapping me in a blanket. I fall asleep.

I wake up. Shizu-chan is bandaging my arm. I fall asleep.

I wake up. Shizu-chan is forcing soup down my throat.

"What are you doing?" I croak.

"Eat," he orders. I do. I fall asleep.

I wake up. Shizu-chan is tucking me in.

"Protozoan," I murmur. He grunts. I fall asleep.

I wake up. Shizu-chan is gone.

_Time: who the fuck cares  
>Location: in my bed<br>Status: cranky (rawr)_

So basically, what I want to know is what the hell just happened. Because not only am I cranky, but I'm confused as well. You might even say I'm befuddled. Or perplexed. Because Shizu-chan was completely out of character back there.

Oh hot damn, I bet I hallucinated all of that.

But I can feel the warm soup inside me, giving me just enough energy to get dressed. Maybe I fed myself? I start for the kitchen. As I'm passing the bathroom, however, something calls out to me.

"Good morning," says the child. Oh yeah, I forgot about the kid. I look over, and sure enough, there's the little boy standing next to the bathtub. He must have been in here the whole time. Well, don't I feel stupid. His startling crimson eyes peer out at me from behind his blonde bangs, most of which are clipped back. Hm, maybe it's actually a little girl? I can't tell. But after last night, I don't feel any hate toward him anymore. I smile.

The kid points to the bathtub. "You should probably clean this up," he says. The water is still a sickly pink color, staining the rim of the tub brown. I sigh, making my way over to pull the drain. Then, I wash my hands, glancing at myself I the mirror. The boy stands behind me, looking over the dark bruises and cuts decorating my ailing figure. I smirk down at him. He's totally a hallucination. I'm officially crazy.

"Want something to eat?"

He nods.

"Then go make breakfast," I sneer, suddenly feeling one hundred percent better. The boy glowers and doesn't move. "Okay, okay, I'll make breakfast," I laugh. The boy huffs and follows me into the kitchen.

"You made a mess," the boy drawls when he sees the post-apocalyptic state the kitchen is in. He sits down, eying the disassembled first aid kit scattered across the table.

"Ah, but Shizu-chan is responsible for that mess," I reply, shoving the bandanges onto the floor. I'm not hungry, but I find my toaster among the mess and plug it in. I pick up a loaf of bread from beneath a chair and pop two slices in the toaster. "I need to keep my energy up in order to go insane properly," I tell the boy. "We can't have me dying like last night, now can we?"

The boy remains silent. I look over my shoulder to make sure he's still there. "Where are your parents, anyway?" I ask, thinking back on the two other voices from before.

"In the wall," he shrugs.

I knew it.

The toast pops up. I can't find the butter, so I eat it dry.

"Aren't you gonna clean this up?" asks the boy.

My turn to shrug. "Maybe," I answer casually. To keep people guessing is my specialty. I go to brush my teeth. I spit out some blood. Ew. The boy looks at me with a bored expression.

"Where are you going?" he asks. Sheesh, he could at least _try_ to sound interested.

"Just because I've accepted my insanity doesn't mean I want to hang around with it," I reply. I throw my coat on and open the door. "And besides," I add, "I don't like looking at that wall."

The boy glances over at the expanse of writing, his red gaze void of any emotion. "You shouldn't run from this," he warns. He looks back at me expectantly.

I roll my eyes. "Let me guess. I can run, but I can't hide."

The boy blinks. He points at those exact words on the wall.

I slam the door shut behind me.

* * *

><p><em>Time<em>:_ 4:31 pm_  
><em>Location: behind McDonalds (and I am NOT lovin' it.)<em>  
><em>Status: wondering why the fuck this is happening again<em>

Shiki-san's men (different ones. AKA living ones.) are running after me. Good thing I ate that toast this morning. But even that isn't enough to get me running like I used to.

I jump on the dumpster just as they close in on me. Something catches my jacket, and I look back in time to see a strong hand pull me back down.

"You little shit," the big one says, stepping on my injured arm. "Shiki-san wants you dead. You don't want to go and disappoint him again by living, now do you?" I cough when he kicks me in the stomach. Twelve against one is hardly fair. Only a monster like Shizu-chan could do something like this.

"Give me some time," I hiss. Shiki-san has never been one to overreact about something. And I'm pretty sure this is the definition of overreacting. It's been a fucking day, and he expects me to have Shizu-chan's blood already?

"We gave you chances."

"What chances?" I laugh. This is so confusing it's funny.

Then my head is bashed back against the concrete. I hear my skull crack. The wetness spreads through my hair. The scent of blood.

The weaker I become, the more relaxed these guys get. They think their job is almost done. I can feel their courage growing, and the sight of my blood is feeding their carelessness. One man drops his weapon so he can punch me.

Then I see a figure standing next to the dumpster. His red eyes glint.

"They're all fools," says the little boy. I snicker.

Then I close my fist around my forgotten switchblade. Oh, trusty switchblade. Thou art so loved. I slice the nearest man's Achilles tendon through his pants, and I watch him go down beside me. I can feel the other men's confidence vanish. And now I'm up, jumping around and dodging blows. Most of them are gone already. They ran.

The first man I slashed is crawling away. Three are left, and I pounce on the big one. My switchblade disappears into his chest. He gasps. Gurgles. I watch him fall, it's like slow motion. My head goes fuzzy. The remaining men flee.

He's dead.

The boy laughs. The sound is distant, and I try to shake away the fuzz from my brain. The ground begins to shake. The image of the man on the ground flickers and jumps. It looks like a glitch in a video game.

And woooah Déjà vu!

This is what happened before! My mind is trying to suppress the memory of murder.

"Stop," I gasp, glaring up at the boy. He's the one doing this. I know he is.

He cocks his head and says, "You don't want to forget?"

"No." My memory is one of my most important possessions. If I lose that, I might lose who I am. When people say they want to forget, I think that's bullshit. What they really want is to change the past.

The fuzziness and glitchiness stop, but I suddenly feel like I just got off one of those spinny things at the playground. Not that I still ride those…

And now I'm throwing up my toast. Dandy.

I stare at the ground for a while with my hands on my knees. The boy's shadow is expanding, covering my shoes and bile in darkness. I blink up against the silhouette.

"Oh, great," I mumble. The boy turned into Shizu-chan.

"Flea," he growls, coming at me. He slams me against the dumpster. I hear a sick squelching sound come from the back of my head, and I feel hot blood drip down my back.

I grunt, grinding my teeth to hide most of my pain. But then I realize something.

This is quite an amazing coincidence. Unless Shizu-chan happened to walk into the scene when I was at my weakest, and he happened to step on the exact spot the boy was standing a few seconds ago, there's no way this is real. Shizu-chan isn't here. I'm hallucinating.

I don't have to hide my pain from my hallucinations.

So when this so-called Shizu-chan throws me against the adjacent building (taco bell, no me quiero), I stop holding everything in. And I honestly never knew I could scream so loud. Shizu-chan, who was just about to smack me over the head with a sign, is so shocked by the sound that he freezes. I blink away the black cloud obstructing my vision, panting for breath. My lungs are on fire, and I almost wish this wasn't a hallucination so that Shizu-chan could just kill me and get it over with. Because I honestly want to die. What's the point of living if your clients are trying to kill you, your mind is lying to you, you can't eat or sleep, and your imaginary archenemy decides to be nice and wipe away your tears?

Wait, wait… oh fuck it all. I'm crying, and I didn't even notice until I did an internal monologue. I slap his hand away, more pissed at myself than at him. After all, it's my fault he's doing this. I'm the one hallucinating.

"Flea?" he asks. I can't look him in the eye. I try to will him away. It doesn't work. Instead, he lifts me up and says, "Tch. I can't beat you up when you're down. Let's go to Shinra's. I'll kill you there."

I struggle. "Put me down you protozoan!" My vision is fading in and out, and I'm so lightheaded it's nauseating. Shizu-chan scoffs and sets my feet on the concrete. I wobble.

"At least let me help you," he says. I shove him away. He's so OOC it's ridiculous. Apparently I suck at hallucinating realistic people.

"I can do this," I snap. But a second later I find myself leaning against Shizu-chan's shoulder.

"Fine, you can help me," I say. "But I'm doing this because I'm making you, not because you offered."

Shizu-chan sighs. "How'd you get like this, anyway?"

"One of my clients is not very happy with me," I sigh. "He sent outa small army of men to attack me. Poor sportsmanship, I say."

"I didn't see anyone," mumbles Shizu-chan. He helps me walk for what feels like forever, and I make sure we stay out of the public's eye. Who knows what one looks like while limping with the help of a fictitious person.

A million years later (I'm exaggerating, obviously), Shizu-chan pushes me in front of Shinra's door. "Don't tell anyone I helped you," he growls threateningly. He turns to leave.

"How convenient of you," I muse, "to disappear right before anyone else sees you. I guess even hallucinations are rude."

Shizu-chan turns back to me, and I witness an absolutely gorgeous look on him: confusion. The emotion suits him perfectly.

"What the fuck are you talking about, louse?"

I chuckle. "Aw, how cute! You're in denial?"

Shizu-chan blinks. But before he can say anything, the door behind me swings open. I turn to see Shinra, who immediately turns white at the sight of me.

"Holy-! Izaya, what happened?"

I glance over my shoulder to see Shizu-chnan's foot vanish behind the corner. Shinra frantically pulls me inside, mumbling something about miracles.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I love you all sooo much! With only three reviews for the first chapter I was like, "fuuuuck" and now I'm like "whaaat" because you guys never cease to amaze me. But I'm starting to hate this story. It feels too... teen angst. You know? But it's kinda hard to sew in some comedy without making it a clown suit instead of a hospital gown. If you catch my drift.

Also, I have recently created a blog where I tell everyone all of my secrets! You can stalk me as much as you want. The link is in my profile :)

**Love, CircusRunaway**


	5. Chapter 5

**Rated**: M  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: My birthday's in like a week, so maybe I'll get the rights to Durarara!... but don't count on it.  
><strong>AN: **Apologies ahead of time if there are typos! I wrote this one real fast, and I don't have time to go over it. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<br>"This Malfunctioning Mind of Mine"**

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><p><em>Time: 6:19 pm<br>Location: Shinra's couch  
>Status: uncomfortable<em>

"I want you to tell me what's really been going on," orders Shinra.

"I already told you," I groan, throwing my head back against the sofa. Shinra eyes me dubiously, but doesn't pause in assessing my injuries.

"You really think I believe that a couple of normal men did this to you?" he grunts. I shrug in reply. During my explanation to Shinra, I purposefully left out the parts with Shizuo. If he knew what I had seen, Shinra would definitely assume it was a hallucination. And rightfully so, I guess.

"They ganged up on me," I say. "But I'm flattered you think so highly of me. I can usually take care of myself. Today was… different, though."

Shinra frowns, carefully unwrapping the old bandages on my wrist. I try not to hiss, looking away as my face contorts in pain.

"Different how?" he asks. "Do these older wounds have anything to do with it?"

I don't answer. Why would I even throw him a hint like that?

"You're giving him hints because you want help," says a sickly-sweet voice. I jump, my eyes landing on the little boy standing in the corner. The same little boy from before.

"Sorry," murmurs Shinra, assuming I jumped because of the pain.

"Just tell him," the boy continues. I tear my eyes away from him, focusing instead on the gauze in Shinra's hands. "Tell him you've been suffering. Tell him about me."

Shinra runs his cold fingers across the slash on my wrist. I shudder, squeezing my eyes shut when the boy starts talking again.

"You want someone to save you," he says. I want to answer. I want to tell him that I don't need saving. I'm not a damsel in distress.

"Aren't you scared?" he asks.

No. I'm not scared. I've already accepted that I'm going crazy. I've embraced it.

"You're terrified," he whispers.

I shake my head. I will it to stop.

"Izaya," says Shinra.

No.

"Hey, look at me."

No! God, why can't I just go crazy in peace? Even my hallucinations won't leave me alone!

"Izaya!"

"Shut up!" I shout, unable to take it anymore. I push off the cushions, grasping the blade in my pocket and launching it at the corner. It embeds itself in the drywall, but the boy is nowhere to be seen.

What the fuck is going on? I thought the boy was on my side. I thought he was supporting me! He lied. He betrayed me. He laughed at me.

Celty appears out of nowhere. She helps Shinra up; I must have pushed him down when I lost my temper and…

"Shit," I breathe. The realization of what I just did hits me. "Shit," I repeat, louder this time. "Shit, Shinra. Shit. I didn't- I, I mean-"

Shinra gives Celty a curt nod, and I suddenly find myself thrown back against the couch, unable to move. The black substance binds me to its cushions, and I shout out indignantly. The substance creeps up to cover my mouth, and my furious words are muffled. my breathing is heavy and fast through my nose, and I watch in panic, not sure if I should focus my gaze on Celty or Shinra.

"Calm down, Izaya," sighs Shinra. "We're not going to hurt you. We just want to talk."

I shout against the bonds. Who the fuck do they think they are!

"Izaya," says Shinra, softly. There's this sadness in his voice, and it makes me stop struggling as I watch him kneel down. His eyes are level with mine. I wriggle a bit, hating the pain written all over his face. Who's the one in pain here? "Why didn't you just tell us? We can help you, you know."

Deny it. I roll my eyes. I put all my efforts into denying it with my eyes.

"You can't hide anymore."

My eyes get away from me for a second. They widen at those words. The words on my wall.

And Shinra sees this. He sees my panic. And I hate him for it.

"These delusions," he begins, and I cringe at the word. Celty hits him over the head. "Sorry, I mean these… visions are more dangerous than you think."

I snort. You don't need to tell me that, after what happened with Shizuo.

"Those men you were talking about. The ones who beat you up, did they have any reason to?"

I glare at him.

Shinra clears his throat. "Well, think about it. Even you said their motivation was completely unjustified."

I struggle some more. I have the wounds to prove it, goddammit!

"Izaya, stop," scolds Shinra. "You'll only hurt yourself more."

Tch, a couple of flesh wounds aren't gonna stop Orihara Izaya.

Wait. Hurt myself… more?

Oh no.

Nohohooo!

He can't be serious. Shinra can't actually think that I did this to myself!

I try to launch myself off the couch again, but the substance pulls me back. I bite at it, growling and kicking. Shinra backs away, glancing at Celty to make sure she has a hold of me.

I wouldn't- I couldn't! Those men, they did this to me! I was covered with blood, their blood! Shiki-san sent them after me because… because…

Because I couldn't recover blood from Shizuo within a day? That made sense, right…? Shiki-san has always been a bit impatient, right? I mean, if anyone could get blood from Ikebukuro's most notorious monster, it was me, but even I needed some time.

After all Shiki-san and I have been through, he knows I need time.

This didn't add up. I can feel the weight of the vials in my pocket. All the blood… was mine the entire time. The cuts on my arms, are they from me? My switchblade?

And I can see it. I'm alone in the alleyway. I'm cutting my arms. I'm bashing my head against the ground. I can feel the bruises on my face rising as I laugh at my own pain.

Shiki-san never sent his men after me.

The deal is still on.

But then, what about Shizuo? Was he just another hallucination, or did I switch it all up in this malfunctioning mind of mine?

Was Shizuo really there to watch me fall victim to my own games? Was he there to beat the shit out of me, to help me, to watch me cry? And as I think about all of this, I begin to cry again. It's like my eyes want to humiliate me as much as possible. It's like the love to have other people see me weak. Even I have never seen myself this weak.

I knew I was going crazy, but I didn't know I was going to be _this _crazy! And let me tell you, nothing hurts more than knowing your own mind is deceiving you. I can't tell what's real and what's not. Am I even in Shinra's apartment? Is Izaya Orihara even my real name?

I pull my watery gaze upwards and notice Shinra and Celty staring at me. They have no idea what to do. They've never seen me cry.

I look away. I curl inwards, trying to bury myself in the couch instead of fighting my way off of it. But the stupid black shit keeps me there, on display for everyone to see. Shinra doesn't say anything. He reaches out, but I flinch when his hand gets too close. He sighs, retracting his arm and turning to Celty.

"I think he understands now," he says, and the black substance disappears. I gasp in bucket loads of air, since my nose was becoming stuffy from crying. I cough a bit, quickly wiping my face and standing up.

"Thanks for the patch-up," I mumble, and stumble sideways to the door. In a matter of seconds, Celty is in front of me, blocking the way.

"You seriously think we're just gonna let you leave now? After all that?" Shinra says.

"Um, yes?" I try, smiling a bit. It doesn't work, seeing as my face is marred with wet streaks and bandages.

"You're schizophrenic, Izaya. We can't have you wandering the streets right after you had a major psychotic episode!"

I shake my head vigorously. "Crazy, yes. Schizophrenic, no," I say. I refuse to put such a serious label on this… temporary illness.

"Stop it," states Shinra.

"Stop what."

"Denying it!" he cries. "You're staying the night here, and that's final. I'll get the appropriate medicine in the morning."

"But Shinraaaa," I whine.

Celty shoos me back into the main room, and I sit myself on the couch. She disappears somewhere, I'm assuming to find a blanket, and Shinra immediately begins interrogating me.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Are you hallucinating right now?"

"No."

"Do you believe that you have super powers?"

"Duhh."

"Really?"

"No."

Celty comes back with a quilt, throwing it on top of me before smacking Shinra in the chest. Shinra doubles over, coughing.

"_Sorry about that," _Celty types.

I shrug, not really in the mood for talking. I grab the blanket and wrap it around myself. Lying down with my back facing the doctor and his fairy, I signal the end of this intervention.

* * *

><p><em>Time: 5:02 am<br>Location: Shinra's couch  
>Status: horny<em>

I stifle a groan as I switch positions. This is quite the predicament. I don't know what made me aroused, since I wasn't really thinking of anything in that area of my expertise. But here I am, on Shinra's couch, with a boner. I can't very well relieve myself, as it would ruin the quilt and leave evidence all over the cushions.

"Ah," a gasp slips past my lips when I roll onto my stomach. No good, I have to use the bathroom.

I make sure to be as stealthy as possible. If they hear I'm awake, both Celty and Shinra are going to bolt out of their rooms to make sure I'm not trying to escape (it's happened twice already).

As I pass the front door, a small clicking noise startles me. The door is being unlocked. Who the fuck would be visiting at this hour, much less one who has a key?

"Shizu-chan?" I hiss as the blonde slips through the door. He jumps slightly, shocked to find me right behind him.

"What the fuck are you doing awake, flea?" he growls.

I flap my hands down to shush him before whispering, "None of your business. More importantly, why the hell are you here?"

"None of your business," he murmurs back. "Well, I'll be leaving now."

I can't help myself. This is just too perfect. So I ask, "Aww, what's this? Were you making sure I was okay?"

"LIKE HELL I-!" To silence him, I push myself against Shizuo, covering his mouth with my hand.

"Shh, you protozo-ohh…" I involuntarily groan when he shifts slightly, his leg rubbing against my groin. We both freeze, before I feel him smirk beneath my hand.

"Shut up," I snap quietly, even though he hasn't said anything. He does it again, and my hand slips from his mouth.

"So this is what you were doing awake," he snickers. I feel myself going red. Stepping backward, I trip over a shoe and stumble into the bathroom door. Shizuo laughs silently.

"I suggest you leave before they wake up again," I hiss, edging into the bathroom. Shizuo follows me, a grin still plastered across his face.

"There's no way I'm passing up such a rare opportunity to see you mortified beyond recognition," he says.

I balk. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I suddenly find us in the middle of the windowless bathroom. Shizuo shuts the door behind him, and I have to grope around for something to hold on to in this thick blackness. His hands find me before my hands can find anything else, and I'm pushed down onto the floor.

"I had no idea Shizu-chan felt this way about me," I sing, trying to keep a level head.

"I don't," he replies.

"Ah! Stop doing that!"

He's on me now, palming me in the crotch. I bite my hand to keep from making noise, but he pulls my wrist away and forces my own hand into my pants.

"Haa," I gasp when my fingers graze the head of my cock. Shizuo chuckles before getting off of me.

"That's it," he coaxes. He keeps my hand in my pants while he moves behind me, sitting me up against his chest. "Now grab yourself," he growls in my ear. I shudder, but restrain from wrapping my fingers around my throbbing cock.

"I said grab yourself," he repeats. He bites down on my ear, and I gasp, clenching my fists in pain. Unfortunately, that also means clenching my hand around my length. That sneaky bastard.

"Fuuh," I breathe. It feels so, so good, but I need to let go of my… I have to… let it… go…

My thoughts fade away as Shizuo puts his hand over mine, and begins pumping slowly.

"No, Shiz-_ooh. _Sto-, nn-," I groan.

"What's that? It feels good, right?" Shizuo says into my ear, grazing the shell with his lips. I shudder, leaning back against his chest.

"No, it f-feels… bad," I gasp.

"You can let go anytime," he whispers. "You're the one touching yourself. You dirty, blood-sucking flea."

"N-_ahhh!" _I cry when his other hand finds its way to my nipples. The touch is electrifying, sending shivers of pleasure and lust down to my groin. Why don't I let go? Since when have I been so weak?

He releases my neck with a pop. "How does it feel to masturbate in front of the person you hate most?"

He lets go of my hand around my cock, moves to massage my balls. I cover my mouth with my free hand to keep from crying out again. These embarrassing noises are sure to wake Shinra and Celty, and if they find us like this…

Shizuo laughs throatily. "See?" he says. "You claim it feels bad, and yet you keep moving up and down without my hand forcing you to."

H-He's right. My hand continues pumping my cock while the other hand covers my mouth. I catch another groan in my throat when Shizuo tugs on my balls.

"Hmm," he hums, trailing his finger from my nipple to my mouth. "We can't have that, now can we?" He pulls my hand lazily away form my mouth, and I pant weakly as I near release.

"They- _haa! _Shi-Shizu- _mmnh, _no, p-please, they'll hear- _nnaAH!_"

"Good," grunts Shizuo. "More humiliation for you."

I dig my fingers into his knee, and I bite my lip instead. I see stars flashing in front of my vision, and I'm teetering on the edge of release. I stop pumping my cock and try to will it away, reverse the effects Shizuo's skillful hands have had on my body.

Shizuo notices my resilience, and he pries my mouth apart by inserting a finger. I can feel my saliva drip from my mouth, now hanging open, puffing hot pants against Shizuo's hand. His other hand moves torturously away from my balls and around to my stationary hand.

"Ha, ha, please, Shizu-chan, haa," I pant against his finger, unintentionally coating it with saliva. He smears my precum around the head with his thumb and I cry out, knowing it's no use. We're going to be caught. And the direct touch of his hand on my cock is almost too much, but I hold back my release. Somehow.

"Don't you just want to let go?" he snears.

"I- ha, I want _you _to let… go…"

He starts pumping again. I squirm, trying my best to keep from moaning. But his fingers keep the gate between my voice and the world open.

"AHH! Nn- _ha! _Shit_, _Shizu_-aaoohh!"_

"Faster?" he says, and speeds up the pace.

"_Ah! _I c-can't, _ahhh, _I'm c-"

"Don't hold back," he whispers, and I want to laugh. He says it in a way that makes me want to listen to him, to scream for him. And this is so stupid, how can this be happening?

But then it hits me.

This is a hallucination, isn't it?

"No," says Shizuo, reading my thoughts. "No, this is a _dream_."

And with that last word, I come for Shizuo. Long and hard inside the quilt, the white stuff coats my palm and the inside of my pants, seeping out onto the quilt and all over the cushions. My throat is burning from the scream that must have forced its way past my lips. My other hand is drenched in my own spit. Sweaty and exhausted, I slip my fingers out of my mouth and tumble off of the couch.

"Run," the boy says. He jumps out of an open window. I hear a door fly open, but I'm already out on the fire escape before either one of them can register what happened. I know full well that Shinra will be sending Celty out on her bike after me, and that means I have to find a safe place to bunker down for a few nights.

The boy is running in front of me. How he can possibly run faster than me, I guess only my mind knows that.

So much for that medicine Shinra was gonna give me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Woah I have no idea where all that smut came from… I'm a bit exhausted after writing all of that.

And as always, I love each and everyone of my reviewers If I had more time, I would definitely thank you all personally. I promise I will in the next chapter! I PROMISE!

And whoever this mysterious reviewer cc is, you better draw "a motherfcking awesome picture" when I make it to chapter ten! Otherwise you got me all excited for nothing! I expect magic from you! (actually, as long as it's a picture, idc how good it is haha).

**Love, CircusRunaway**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I am soooo sorry! I'm an awful person! College is so time consuming!

**Thank you my beautiful reviewers! KonoBeat: **I'm happy you enjoyed the smut XD and I love your story by the way! **Orangeducttape: **Baww I'm blushing! **SkittleTongue: **I looove Izaya as a hot mess yumm **Ejrade: **thank you so much! I can't tell you how much your review means to me. I worked hard on that line haha **Junjou-is-pureheart: **I am so sorry this took so long! And the boy isn't really anyone… I just made him up :o **blackwingsgreeneyes: **hello dedicated reviewer! I love that you keep up with all of my stories, you have no idea… **Sexykill69: **teehee **kitespirit: **thank you so much for saying that. I don't really understand what makes my writing style any different from anyone else's, but I love when people tell me that! **QueenKairi: **So many things to say to you, but I'll just sum it up by saying I LOVE YOU! **Hydromaniac-Mermaidella, jen-jen713, and izayaKanra: **I can't wait to write more ;) **mangoface: **thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>**  
>"Blood and Stars"<br>**

* * *

><p><em>Time: 7:11 am<br>Location: 24-hour convenience store  
>Status: homeless<em>

I have decided two things.

One: I am going to complete Shiki's mission no matter what.

And two: Before I do that, I'm going to lay low for a few days so that I can go crazy in peace.

But this is ridiculous. I can't go anywhere. My loft is definitely off-limits, there's no way in hell I'm going back to Shinra's place, and Kadota… well, I'm pretty sure he lives in a van. I never see him anywhere else.

And I know what you're thinking. "OH EM GEE GO TO SHIZUO'S APARTMENT!"

Ha. There is no way in hell I would ever resort to that.

The only place left is Namie's apartment. Fortunately, I made a copy of her keys, and I'm one hundred percent positive that she took advantage of her vacation time and is now visiting her brother. I'll have the whole place to myself.

Unfortunately, her apartment is only a block away from where Shizuo works.

"What are you doing?" asks the boy, trailing behind me as we walk through the aisles of a convenience store. I ignore him, since he probably already knows what I'm up to, and grab some water bottles out of a cooler. We then walk over to the medicine shelves and grab some vapor rub.

"This isn't going to work," says the boy, sick of being ignored. I shrug before walking to the check out. The boy huffs, resting his chin on the counter while the cashier greets me sleepily.

This is going to work. It has to.

"It won't. He'll find you," says the boy.

We leave the store on high alert. We feel around the air a bit. Shizuo is near.

"Here goes nothing," I say to the boy, and I open the pack of vapor rub. I take off my shoes and begin covering them in it, making sure to save some for later. I read once that vapor rub prevents dogs from smelling a bitch when she is in heat. It covers up a scent even _that_ powerful.

Let's hope it works on Shizuo, too.

I take off my socks and put my shoes back on, placing the vapor rub inside my coat pocket. I can feel it clink against the empty test tubes, reminding me of the job I still have to do. I still need Shizuo's blood.

I have to keep reminding myself that those men that attacked me weren't real. They were never real. I look down at my bandaged arms, running a hand across my wounds. The wounds that I made with my own switchblade. Ugh.

Okay, on with the show. I can sense Shizuo closer now, but I don't think he knows we're here yet. Perfect.

The boy and I run in the opposite direction of Namie's place. I rub my socks against a brick wall before moving into an alley, where the rising sun is glowing orange on the other side. I throw one of my socks onto the fire escape.

"This is so stupid," says the boy. I tell myself it's not_. It isn't stupid_.

We continue on and find ourselves on the corner of a busy intersection. That's when the boy spots it. The most perfect addition to our master plan. A tow truck is stopped at a red light a few feet away, and one of its chains is trailing on the ground. I snatch the opportunity and quickly tie my other sock to the chain, jumping away as the light turns green. We watch in satisfaction as the sock rubs my scent along the ground, in a path that leads away from Namie's apartment.

"Brilliant," whispers the boy.

"I thought so," I reply, smirking. Then, I reapply the vapor rub to my shoes, smear it in my hair, and open the bottles of water. Turning around, we take the long route to Namie's apartment, splashing water along our trails as we go. At one point, we even hop onto the back of a bus. Anything to make sure Shizuo doesn't follow us.

"This might actually work," says the boy. He seems shocked.

"Of course it's going to work," I laugh. I feel great. Nothing can stop us.

We finally reach Namie's apartment, and I quickly unlock the door. I splash the last of the water down the steps, and smear the remaining vapor rub onto the door handle. The boy follows me inside and I lock the door shut.

"We need a towel," I say. The boy is somehow in the kitchen before me, rummaging through the cabinets. I find the towels first, and we walk back to the door and stuff it under the crack.

"Good," he observes, "but we need something to bunker the door."

I agree, and we barricade the door with a green sofa from the living room.

"Here," the boy says, and I look down to see him holding out a cooking pot.

"What? I'm not hungry."

"No. Wear it, like me," he says. I then notice he's wearing one just like it over his head. I burst out laughing.

"Fine, fine," I gasp. "We might as well have some fun with this."

The boy smiles and turns around. I put the pot over my head. It smells like spaghetti and soap. The boy grabs a knife from the drawer, and I grab my switchblade, and we tip over the table in the kitchen and slide it against the large window on living room wall. And then we sit behind it, back to back. The boy stares out the window at the streets below, and I stare at the green sofa that protects us from the world.

And we wait.

Lunchtime comes and goes. Neither of us notices. Neither of us moves.

Dinner comes and goes. I don't feel Shizuo's lingering presence anymore. He must have gone home. The setting sun makes Namie's apartment look like it's on fire. The green couch appears brown and rotten against the harsh redness of it all. And then I'm falling.

I don't know where I'm falling to, but I know that I'm falling alone. At least Shizuo went home. At least he can't find me here. I'm sleeping, and I smell smoke. The apartment is on fire.

Shizuo's laughing in my ear. He's telling me I can't hide. I can never hide.

"Weakness," Shizuo says. We're back in school. His strength pins against the desk, because I stole his pencil. I can't move.

"Forgotten," Shizuo says. The scene warps. It's a couple months after graduation, and he never thinks about me anymore. He has more to worry about. He can't keep a job. I have to make him remember me. So, naturally, I do.

"Death," he says. Now I'm seeing something that takes me off guard. I try to look away.

"Suffer." His words are like and order now. He twists my head to the scene I never saw before, but I've heard about it. Shizuo is lying in the rain. He's bleeding.

He's been shot.

"Alone," he says. Shizuo disappears, leaving me in the black nothingness of sleep. I call out to anyone, even my hallucinations. But no one answers.

I lurch awake. I sit up, gasping for air, and the cooking pot slips over my eyes. I whip around and look at the door, but the sofa is still firmly in place, and the boy is looking out the window at the moon.

"At least I can hide," I think aloud. I feel a bit relieved, but then the boy starts laughing.

"You spoke too soon," he says. He points out the window, still laughing, and I see Shizuo running into the building.

I panic for a moment, but then I stop. "HA!" I blurt out suddenly, remembering who I am. I shouldn't be scared! I'm Izaya-fucking-Orihara! I have a knife, plus a whole drawer of extras in the kitchen, and I can easily take down that dumb brute with or without my sanity.

So I smile, bracing myself behind the table. The boy steps to the side and out of the way. When Shizuo comes bursting through the door, blinded by anger and stupidity, I'll be ready. And I'll slit his throat, gather up some blood into the vials, and deliver it to Shiki. No one ever said I couldn't kill Shizuo in the process. Might as well get paid for doing the thing you love, right?

But when Shizuo came through that door, the force of his entry sending the green sofa flying over my head and through the window, he did something unexpected.

Which, I guess, I should have expected.

He took one look at me and laughed.

He _laughed_.

"What the fuck, flea?" He roars, clutching his stomach. For a moment, I think he's a hallucination again. But then I remember Shiki's men. I thought they were real at first, but they weren't. At the same time, I assumed Shizuo was a hallucination. So in reality, Shiki's men were the hallucination, and Shizu-chan was real. I had everything backwards! Which, in turn, also means that Shizuo has seen me at my weakest. He really was in my apartment bandaging me up. He really did walk me all the way to Shinra's place. And he's really here, right now, laughing at me.

"At least that dream wasn't real," says the boy. He smirks, clearly knowing the discomfort he just caused me. I didn't need any reminders.

Furious, I put one foot up on the edge of the table and point my knife at him.

"Get out of my territory, Shizu-chan," I command. He looks up at my face and starts laughing all over again.

"_Your _territory?" he howls. I wince against the horrid noise. His voice is scratching away at my patience. "First of all, this is Ikebukuro. _My _territory. And second of all… what the fuck is on your head?"

I lose my balance a bit, the cooking pot tipping sideways on my scalp. I forgot it was there.

"This," I say slowly, "is a _pot_. Can you say _pot, _Shizu-chan?"

Shizuo's face morphs into a mask of rage. Ah, there he is.

"Now if you'd be so kind," I continue, "turn around and leave us alone."

Now Shizuo looks confused. "_Us? _Who is _us, _Izaya?"

Oh yeah, he can't see the boy. I look over to the hallucination in question, but the boy is glaring at Shizuo. Observing him. "He thinks little of you," says the boy after a moment. I look away. I don't like this. Shizuo clears his throat, obviously trying to find his rage again. He doesn't like being confused. He's trying to fight back an unwanted emotion, but I see it flicker behind his eyes before he can.

He's worried.

"I'm fine!" I shout, launching myself at him. This surprises him, since I answered a question he never asked while throwing myself at him. He roars, catching my arm and throwing me over his head. I manage to slice off the tips of his hair before I feel my back against the wall. The pot clangs against my skull before clattering to the floor next to me. I don't cry out. I don't want to give him that satisfaction.

"He made you cry out in your dream," the boy reminds me.

"Not helping!" I shout at him. Shizuo, who was coming at me, freezes. He looks at where the boy is standing, unable to see him, and I take the opportunity to attack. I will not let him see my weakness. I won't let him see me go mad.

"Flea," he rumbles, jumping back from my blade. I snag the edge of his shirt before skipping backwards.

"Shizuo's voice was low in your dream as well," observes the boy. I dodge Shizuo's punch, watching Namie's wall crumble onto the carpet. I'm getting hot. I slip out of my jacket while Shizuo shakes out his hand.

"Oh, undressing, are we?" My hallucination laughs. "Goodness, you are desperate."

"Shut up!" I scream, swinging wildly at Shizuo. He backs up with wide eyes. He's never seen me attack with such a lack of strategy. _I've _never even seen me attack like this. I'm like a cornered animal. I'm losing my mind in more ways than one.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" asks Shizuo. He backs into the kitchen and I swing my knife at his throat. He catches my arm, twisting us around so I'm stuck between him and the counter.

"Hmm, you're trapped," says the boy. "Just like in your dream."

"It was a nightmare!" I shout back, trying to wriggle out of Shizuo's monstrous strength.

"I knew you were crazy, but I didn't know you were _actually_ _insane_," says Shizuo. He laughs as if he's found out something marvelous. "Ha! This explains everything!"

Insulted, I pull out a drawer with my free hand and grab another knife. Shizuo sees this and lets me go, but I manage to slice a small cut on the back of his hand first.

"Don't underestimate me," I hiss. His face darkens and he swings a chair at me. By the time it splinters on the opposite wall, I'm back in the living room. Shizuo follows me. I can tell he's getting tired. Soon, I'll have his blood, and then I'll maneuver him to the shattered window and watch him fall to his death! Teehee…

"You were the submissive one in your dream," the boy points out to me. My confidence shatters. Why is he bringing this up now?

"What's your point?" I'm seriously pissed now. I need to concentrate on fighting Shizuo, not fantasizing about him!

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING TO?" bellows Shizuo, and I sidestep the flying fridge. "Don't have two conversations at once, dammit!"

"I would hardly call this a conversation, Shizu-chan," I say, frowning.

"He's jealous." The boy looks at me meaningfully. "Don't you see what's happening?" I don't see. Sighing, the boy continues, "This is the perfect storm of manipulation! It's a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"…I don't see what you're getting at," I say honestly. It feels a little dumb to have your own hallucination one-up you, though.

"Izaayaaa!" I dodge another chair. Why Namie had two kitchen chairs to begin with, I'll never know. It's not like she ever managed to get a date. I turn my attention back onto the boy.

"In your dream, you were the submissive one. He liked that."

"Stop saying that!" I whirl around and find myself at an advantage, with Shizuo frozen in front of the broken window and my knife against his neck. The turn of events is so sudden, that even Shizuo looks shocked. Fear passes through his eyes, and I gasp.

This is what I've been waiting for. One touch and Shizuo would be gone. He'd be a victim to gravity. Shizu-chan would become my masterpiece on the sidewalk. A victorious tragedy painted in blood.

But then… what about Shiki? We had a deal, and if I send Shizuo over the edge now, everything would be over. The blood would be tainted. My perfect record as an information broker would be soiled. I need the blood first. And then I can kill him.

"You know what to do." The voice is there, but the boy is gone. The night air from outside sends chills up my arms, and the moonlight shimmers off of the blade against Shizuo's skin. Everything seems eerily quiet. I think.

I have a job to do. And I will use the information I know- no matter how ugly that information happens to be- to do it.

I act weak.

With much difficulty, I drop the knife. Shizuo doesn't hesitate to make a move, punching me in the gut and sending me coughing to the floor. I don't get back up, hoping that my hallucination was right. Maybe Shizuo likes seeing me weak. All I have to do is deceive him, get close to him, and then finish the job. I just have to collect some droplets- just a few ounces of blood- and then I'll kill him. It won't matter what he thinks of me. It won't matter, because he'll be dead.

Shizuo picks me up and throws down again, slamming my shoulder into the ground. The air leaves my lungs, and I look up to see him silhouetted against the moonlight. I feel fear, and instead of hiding it, I let it shine through. I let my fear slap him in the face. He hesitates, and I have to fight back a smile, because I know it's working.

"Flea," he growls, picking me up again. He pushes me against a wall and I cough pathetically. Looking into his eyes, I can see that he's fighting to stay mad. He's trying to push down his confusion and sympathy. But he can't. Not for long.

I kick at him halfheartedly, sounding out a feeble grunt. He punches me in the chest, and I can't even cough. The air leaves me so swiftly that I'm seeing stars. I feel myself crumple to the floor again, but I don't fight back. I focus on breathing instead of the adrenaline rushing through my veins. I could attack if I wanted to, but I stay put.

"Fight back!" Shizuo shouts, kicking me in the side.

"Shizu-chan," I gasp, and the way I say it causes me physical pain. Shizuo stops. I gaze up at him with wide eyes, panting as heavily as my burning lungs will allow.

He stares at me for a moment before his face darkens again. "You louse!" He bends down and punches me in the face. I yelp, my face stinging to the point of numbness while Shizuo goes in for another hit. I feel my nose smash against his fist, and pain explodes behind both of my eyes. I howl for real this time.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

My vision isn't so good now. I blink away the blood and stars, meeting Shizuo's gaze above mine. I can't read his expression at all. I'm too tired. Maybe this is a good thing. Kill me, Shizu-chan. Punch me one more time, right in the heart. Stop the beating going on inside my chest.

"Do it." My voice is barely audible over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. The words come rushing out of my mouth, and I see the boy. He's talking for me. He wants Shizuo to kill me. This was his plan the whole time! I cough and my voice rises a bit of it's own accord. I'm not in control of it anymore. "Kill me!" it says. I push myself up with one hand and point to my heart.

Shizuo looks down at me. He's thinking about how disgusting I am. He's wondering why he wasted so much of his life chasing someone so pathetic. I'm a flea, after all. No, I'm much smaller. I wasn't even on his radar.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Ahhh I'm getting caught up in my own story! The suspense is killing me!  
>Thanks for reading, guys :)<p>

**Love, CircusRunaway**

* * *

><p><span>EDIT: SUNDAY, SEPT 18 at 6:26 PM<span>**  
><strong>Slayers64 had a really good question, so I decided to post my answer publicly in case anyone else was confused.  
><strong>"But I'm a little confused. Is his hallucination on his side or against him? I don't get it. O.O? Oh and I when you wrote that Shizuo couldn't hear Izaya's hallucination, how did he hear Izaya's voice scream 'kill me?'"<strong>  
><em><em>Thank you so much for your review!  
>First of all, a big part of schizophrenia is confusion, so it's a good thing you don't completely get it! Not even Izaya knows if his hallucination is on his side or not- basically because the answer is neither. The boy is merely there to provide the readers with a physical being to go along with the voices inside Izaya's head. It never takes one side or the other, and Izaya isn't sure whether or not he can trust it because of this fact (much like how real people with schizophrenia feel about their own inner voices).<br>As for the second question, the reason Shizuo could hear Izaya's voice scream "kill me" was because Izaya was still the one saying it- not his hallucination. The hallucination was simply talking through him (or this is what Izaya thinks), thus why I made sure to write that IZAYA'S voice was saying it.  
>I'm sorry for any confusion, and I hope this helps!<br>Love, CircusRunaway**  
><strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Here it is, I slaved all day just for you~!

**Rating: **M

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<br>"Namie's Floor"  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>Time: Witching Hour<br>Location: Is this Hell? Oh, wait, it's Namie's floor.  
>Status: reflecting on my feelings<em>

It didn't work. For the first time in my life, my plans fell through. _How could I be so stupid? _I should have acted weaker. I should have taken the last of my pride and thrown it away. What could I have done differently? What could have stopped Shizuo from turning away in disgust and leaving me to die?

Wait. My main goal was to live, right? So didn't it work? I got Shizuo to leave without breaking my neck. So why do I feel disappointed…?

Suddenly, I'm claustrophobic. My arm is throbbing inside its cast. I completely forgot that I even had a cast on. Stupid bones. Stupid calcium deficiency. Stupid Shizuo for breaking my wrist in the first place. I can't believe I forgot about that incident, and it kind of shocks me as to how out of it I've really been. My wrist has been trapped in this thing for two weeks, since back when things weren't so bad.

I reach around for my jacket, wincing as the wounds in my other arm reopen. I can feel blood spreading warmly across the loose bandages- bandages that Shizuo wrapped around my wrist. But somehow, I feel like I was the one who did it. Ugh, I need to stop thinking. My headaches, and the pressure behind my eyes is almost unbearable. Almost.

I finally find my jacket, grasping it by the furry hood and pulling it close. My fingers grasp an extra switchblade I keep in my pocket, and as I pull it out I notice the pockets are a little too empty.

Where are the glass vials?

WHERE? I sit up in panic, my stomach churning sickeningly as I search the rest of my jacket. Empty, empty, EMPTY! My hands run over the ground, and I'm unable to feel or hear anything indicating the whereabouts of the vials. I need those. Shiki entrusted them to me, to fill them with Shizuo's blood and deliver them back safely, before he actually does send out real men to attack me. I can't help but shiver at how brutal their advances might be, given how bad the hallucinations alone were. I can't let that happen. Shiki is one of my biggest clients. I can't lose that!

But the vials are gone.

"Shizuo," the little boy whispers, and I look up to find him standing over me.

"What?"

"He's the only one who had access to the glass vials besides us," he explains.

Of course- Shizuo _must _have the vials! I don't know why, or how, but maybe he knew my plan? Ha. Shizu-chan wouldn't know my plan. He probably took them because he collects shiny things.

_Throb._

Amidst the adrenaline rush, I completely forgot about the pain under my cast. It was the main reason I searched my coat in the first place: to get my switchblade. I grab it once more off the floor, where I had dropped it in my frenzy, and begin carefully sawing through the hard cast on my wrist. It's definitely healed by now, but the pressure of the cast is driving me insane!

… Poor word choice.

Just as I break through the meshy part under the cast with my blade, the door bursts open again. Shizuo appears. The boy vanishes. I jump. My hand slips. I'm sitting in the middle of the room, my mouth open in a soundless scream as I watch my own blood pour down my arm. I cut myself. _I actually cut myself. _I sway, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The room gets a bit brighter, maybe because morning's coming, and then I realize that I've done this before. I look at my other arm, cuts scattered beneath the loose bandages from the attack on myself, the one I had originally thought was with Shiki's men. So this isn't the first time I've done this, because Shinra said those were hallucinations. That calms me down a bit, I think.

The boy is back, and behind me now. He presses against my spine, reaching out to hold my fingers tight around the switchblade. I smile at the touch. I'm not alone. I look up at Shizuo and smile, while the boy coaxes my hand down again. The feel of the blade pulls against my skin, and I laugh.

I pull it again.

"Flea!"

Again.

"FLEA!"

Agai-

_SMACK!_

Shizuo hits the blade out of my hand, breathing hard. I look up, only to draw back when I see the sadistic glint in his eyes.

The boy is gone. He led me down this path to seduce Shizuo. Then he left me to fend for myself. I try to attack, or to flee- I'm not sure which one, but I need to try _something_- but it doesn't matter, because I've lost too much blood. I've lost my power.

Shizuo pushes me onto my back gently, slow, but it's these niceties that terrify me. He's hungry, it's like a fake utopia, and I can feel the storm arriving after the calm as soon as his teeth break my skin.

I don't yell. No one will help me. I bite my lip as he bites my neck, releasing more of my blood. I feel it warm and cold at the same time, running down my neck and into Namie's carpet. But Shizuo's hands are hotter and colder still, snagging my shirt as they travel down, and then grating my skin as they travel up under the fabric. He releases my neck, and I have to breath in fast, choking on my cries.

"Ha," he pants, "What's wrong? Don't tell me you didn't want this. You practically begged for this!"

He unbuckles my belt, and I try to kick him away. But he's sitting on my knees. My pants come off, but he leaves my boxers on. He slams my wrists above my head, and I try to catch my pained cries before they make their way out of my throat. It's too late, though. He heard me.

"Tell me how much it hurts," he growls. I turn my head away, grinding my teeth. "If you want me to stop, say stop. Or else," he pauses to rake his fingernails down my side, "I'll keep doing this. I'll do it till you can't breath, till you die from it."

Still, I don't say anything. This is a game. It's true that I begged for this, but that doesn't mean I want it. Not like this, anyway, and definitely not with him. This is cruel. This isn't right. There's something wrong. But I don't make a sound.

My thoughts are cut off when his teeth find my nipple, and OH MY GOD. I can't believe I'm getting aroused. He moves his lips to attack my other side as well, all the while holding my wrists above my head in one of his hands.

"Still holding back? Fuck, you're gonna make me work, aren't you?" breathes Shizuo. He straightens up, looming over me, and I can't look away. He's terrifying. Everything that was ever me, everything that I kept so sacred, is now burned to ashes by this feeling of fear. I'm not supposed to be afraid. And I'm not supposed to _want_ to be afraid. But I do. And I keep my hands pinned to the floor, even though he's no longer holding them there. I watch, frozen, as he pulls his vest and his shirt over his head. He drops them, and when he looks back down at me, he grins.

I'm hard. What the fuck is wrong with me? But he's not grinning at that- he's grinning at the hands I kept in place for him. He's grinning at my obedience. My submission. I never knew Shizuo was such a sick fuck. And now I'm paying the price for yet another piece of information I never knew.

But instead of taking my wrists in his hands again, and undoes his bowtie* and ties me up. The fabric bites into my skin, and I'm extremely uncomfortable in this position (in more ways than one), but I don't squirm. Fuck, I'm not doing much of anything, am I? But my penis sure is.

"You're wet," comments Shizuo, noticing my state of arousal. He grabs me abruptly through the damp fabric of my boxers.

"AH!" It passes between my lips unrestrained. Shit. If I can't control the situation, the least I can do is control my reactions. Shizuo seems to sense my desperation for this small power, because he does everything he can to dissolve it. He leans down and pulls on the skin above my hipbone with his teeth, palming me hard through the fabric and moving his hand until my cock is weeping to the point of humiliation.

It hurts- it hurts so much to bring a sting to my eyes, but I won't let myself break down. And although it hurts, it somehow feels… mind-blowing. Like this is blowing my mind. Like Shizuo is blowing on my cock as he peels back the fabric of my boxers, and-

"Hn-!" Shizuo licks a bead of pre-cum off the tip, swirling his tongue around and making my already-pounding skull smash back against the floor in an effort to keep myself quiet. Shizuo smirks against the side of my penis, and then grazes his teeth along a vein.

I choke. The hand that had taken off my boxers is suddenly back, rubbing along my hole before pushing itself roughly inside.

"N-Not there!" My voice cracks. "Stop! No, Shizu-ch-cha-AH!" Two fingers. "Fuck, you protozoan! I said- HNN!" Three fingers, turning and prying apart my insides. I'm on fire. My hands beat against the ground above my head. "S-stop!"

"But look," Shizuo coos. I feel like throwing up. "You're still hard."

I am, but painfully so. My whole body is screaming, every muscle twitches as his fingers continue murdering me. I curl in on myself, and his fingers suddenly come together and curl as well. And then there's electricity. And I scream.

White flashes in the dim morning light. But just when I think I have it, when this torture will finally be over, I'm held in place. I let out a dry sob when I realize Shizuo's other hand is clenching firmly at the base of my cock. He's keeping me there.

I hate him.

He flips me over. He positions himself at my entrance. He pushes in.

I hate him so much. I might explode.

He grunts, pulling out and tearing up my insides.

And I do explode, but not in the way I want to. I scream against the floor. My penis throbs, sending me over another dry orgasm, and I scream again.

He's thrusting in and out, holding my cock. I've always hated him, but never like this. I hate him to the point where killing him wouldn't be enough.

"That's what I wanted to hear," his voice rumbles against my back as I scream again. I frantically try moving my hips against his hand, so that I might find some pleasure in this. I'm like an animal.

I can't even comprehend how much I hate him.

I need his blood. Where did those vials go? Not that I could do much. I try moving my hips again, but his other hand comes around and holds me in place.

I scream his name, not because I want to, but because I have to. I scream it, because everything in my world has become Shizuo. I scream it because now, nothing will ever matter again. This pain, this pleasure, this cruelty and this unfairness and this hate and this _everything _is all because of him. I don't even add the –chan, because he doesn't deserve to be called something he's not.

Because Shizuo is a monster. And when I scream his name one last time as I'm collapsed on the floor, used and abused and confused and anything else that rhymes, alone after he's gone, and after he's taken the last bit of my sanity, I scream it because I can't think of any other word to describe the darkness swallowing me whole.

* * *

><p><em>Time: 8:48 am<br>Location: Hell/Namie's floor  
>Status: used and abused and confused (and anything else that rhymes) … and hungry.<em>

I'm hungry. I decide to get up, and immediately sit down again. My head spins, and the insides of my arms are aching.

Oh yeah. The cuts.

"Have fun last night?" comes a voice. I glare over at the boy, who's leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face.

"Fuck off," I mumble. I stand up again- slowly this time- and make my way to the bathroom.

"AARGH!" I shout in horror. But what I initially thought was a half-dead crossbreed of a human and a raccoon standing in the bathroom is actually just my reflection. I have black bruises around my eyes, probably from when Shizuo punched me in the nose. But I can't think about Shizuo right now, because my insides are twisting nauseatingly with fear, hate, and shame just from his name. I focus all my attention on cleaning myself up, washing my face tenderly before moving to my arms. The gashes are deep and swollen with puss. Yuck. How much blood did I lose?

Whatever.

I move to Namie's closet and look through her clothes. I find some sweatpants, tying the string tight to fit over my bony waist. I know I'm too skinny. They could probably hang me up in an anatomy class and use me as a skeleton.

I find my jacket in the main room soaking in a small puddle of blood. And drop it in disgust when I notice the dried cum on the sleeves.

It's better not to wear my signature jacket anyway.

But I need something to wear. I'm HUNGRY.

I find a coat closet and find a women's long raincoat. It has a big hood, and I pull it on to cover my face. I go back into the bathroom and look myself over in the mirror.

I look homeless.

So long as no one recognizes me, and by that I mean _no one,_ I'm satisfied. I leave, making sure to pull my hood down as far as possible, and depend on my knowledge of the sunlit sidewalk to guide me.

I make it half way to the Sushi shop before they find me.

"You think that stupid disguise is going to stop us? You might want to reconsider flashing around your switchblade before you try avoiding someone," comes a voice.

I stop, peering under my hood at my imaginary gang of attackers. I laugh. They can't hurt me. Not really, anyway.

I let them come. I drop my switchblade and hold out my arms as they run at me.

The first blow hits my ribs. HA! That actually hurt! My mind amazes me sometimes! I have such a superior brain that I can actually feel imaginary pain!

Another kick, and I go down laughing. More, more, more! The kicks come, and pipes scrape against the sidewalk, and I laugh.

Laughter can't even release the hysterical ball of energy inside me! Tears start streaming down my face, helping to ease the pressure. But it's still not enough. I laugh even louder, the volume ripping up my throat. The hallucinations aren't kicking as hard now. They're wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.

The funny thing is, _they're _the things that are wrong with me! And they don't even know it!

Or do they know it? They would, I guess, since I know it. And they're a part of me, after all.

I'm still laughing when I suddenly hear the screech of tires against the pavement. I smell burning rubber. Looking up, I see my hallucinations dive out of the way as a van comes bursting in on the scene. They shout and they run. And I laugh, because they have nothing to be afraid of. They can't be killed by a van!

Someone calls my name.

"Dotachin~!" I greet, smiling as I stand up. The ground sways violently, and I fall over before anyone has a chance to catch me.

When I look up, Dotachin is holding a cell phone to his ear. "Hello, Shinra? Yeah, we did. But he's in bad shape…. No, I don't really feel comfortable moving him…"

The one-sided conversation confuses me, and I'm just about to ask what the hell is going on when two faces pop up in my field of vision.

"Oi! Izaya-kun, what were you doing?" Erika's voice plucks at my nerve endings.

"Oh, just playing around," I lie. I can't let her know I was hallucinating. She's unworthy of such information, just like the rest of the human race.

"You call that playing around? Letting those guys beat you up like that?" Walker asks.

"Haa? What are you talking about?" I pause as his words sink in. "Wait, did you say 'those guys'?"

Erika frowns. "Duhh. What, wasn't that grammatically correct?" She looks to Walker for affirmation. My head is spinning again.

"Were there other people around?" I ask, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I can't seem to put it all together. The puzzle is there, but the pieces are missing.

"Dotachin!" Erika calls out. "I think Izaya-kun has a concussion! He doesn't remember getting beat up."

"I do, but I don't understand what you're saying," I mumble. My stomach drops.

"Watch out, I think he's losing consciousness," Walker says calmly. By the time I realize that he's talking about me, I can't help but think he should have sounded a bit more urgent, before my face hits the pavement.

* * *

><p><em>Time: If only I had a watch.<br>Location: If only I cared.  
>Status. If only I knew.<em>

Voices are getting louder somewhere above me. I try to call out, but my mouth doesn't work.

"… bad we didn't find him sooner. I'm surprised he's not dead." It's Shinra's voice.

"Do you think he got into some kind of trouble with the Yakuza? I recognized some of the thugs when we drove in," says Dotachin.

"Nn," is all I can manage, and splitting my eyelids apart feels like the hardest thing I have ever done.

"Izaya! Hey, can you hear me?" asks Shinra. I blink blearily until I can make out his oversized spectacles.

"Hello, Shinra," I say lazily. Shinra lets out a sigh of relief and holds up three fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Twenty-five," I drawl. Shinra frowns.

"This is serious, Izaya," he scolds. "I need to know if you've had a concussion. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?"

As I answer mindless questions, I go back to what Walker said before.

_Those guys beat you up. _Meaning Shiki's men were actually there. I wasn't hallucinating.

But the little boy… could have just been a figment of my overactive imagination, right? I've heard of children having imaginary friends before. Maybe it was just something like that?

My heart nearly breaks from the relief that suddenly washes over me.

I'm not crazy.

I mean, I have always assumed I was a little bit insane, but who isn't? Shinra was the one who convinced me that I was schizophrenic in the first place. He acted-

He acted like he was _worried _about me. Why would Shinra be worried about me? I'm awful to him. I never deserved his sympathy.

Unless… unless Shinra wanted me to go crazy. If I were to lose my mind, my most prized possession, he could destroy me from the inside.

I narrow my eyes, observing Shinra as he takes my pulse. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? He probably knew Shiki's men were actually attacking me, and planted the seed of self-doubt in my mind when he suggested that I was hurting myself.

"Izaya," Shinra says, and I realize he's holding out two small pills.

"What?" I reply. I know he wants me to take them. But I'm not going to, not after realizing what his true intentions are. Shinra seems to notice my change in attitude, and he lowers his hand warily.

"Izaya, are you…?" The doctor trails off, clearly unsure of what to ask first. I don't want to hear his bullshit, though, and skip right to the chase.

"I underestimated you, Shinra," I say. Right now, I'm not worried about keeping up false friendships. I need to find a way to escape; to survive. "I knew you were clever, but this!" I laugh, still trying to grasp the truth of it all.

Shinra and Dotachin exchange a look. "What are you talking about, Izaya?" Dotachin asks.

"I'm talking about Shinra-kun~" I put on a sickly sweet smile, pleased when the other two visibly shiver. Walker and Erika are standing by the van, keeping watch for any more gang members. "He had everything planned out, you know? I bet he hates you for saving me, Dotachin- unless you're in on this too," I add, shooting the man in question a look of warning.

"We should get you back to my place," Shinra says, changing the subject. Suspicious.

"Haa? Eager to play with my mental health even more? Sorry, but it's going to take a lot more than your cheap methods to convince me that I've gone insane!" I feel foolish, betrayed even, but not enough to admit defeat.

"Izaya- you're not mentally stable," Shinra says.

"Oh! I almost forgot to mention the best part!" My voice cracks hysterically, causing Erika and Walker to look over. Let them stare. "Shizu-chan visited me last night," I continue, and Erika jumps to attention in the corner of my eye. "And look at your face, Shinra! You act surprised, but _you're all in on this together! _Haha!Was it fun? Did you enjoy planning out my demise?"

"But Izaya, that's not possible," Erika calls out.

I ignore her, keeping my eyes steady with Shinra's. "Did it excite you to think of ways to get inside my skull? Convincing me, beating me, raping me-"

Shinra stops me. "Raping? Izaya, who…? No, better yet, Shizuo has been out of town for two weeks, didn't you know?"

"Nice try, Shinra. He was over at Namie's place last night, pounding into me like a fucking dog."

"Izaya, we're going to get you some help. I can examine you myself if you want, but-"

"STOP WITH THE LIES!" I snap, throwing myself on top of Shinra, using my nails to scratch at his face. I don't know where I dropped my switchblade. Dotachin grabs me from behind, and I bite his hand, tasting blood before being dropped harshly to the ground. My legs begin to move before my feet hit the pavement, and I run clumsily, trying to keep my balance as the buildings rock back and forth.

I run, and I run, and don't look back, and run, and I suddenly find myself catching my breath in front of Shizuo's door.

I have to see if he's here. I have to be thorough in my search, to determine if everything is just a plot to destroy me. Though I'm already most certain it is.

The door is locked.

"When has that stopped you before?" the boy asks, and I'm thankful he decided to join me. I smirk, mirroring his expression, before kneeling down to pick the lock.

The first thing I notice upon opening the door is the smell. It smells like spoiled milk, hitting me like a brick wall. The darkness is the second thing I notice. Then the pile of unpaid bills on the floor, just beyond his threshold.

"I gotta give it to them, they really went all out when they planned this," says the boy.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well they obviously made it seem like he hasn't been home in a while. Even putting expired milk in the fridge."

But I'm not so sure. Suddenly, I have doubts in my mind.

There is only one thing left to do: I have to call Shiki-san.

There's a payphone just outside Shizuo's apartment. I leave quickly, hoping the smell doesn't stick to my clothes (even though they're not even mine), and dial Shiki's personal cell as soon as the booth is closed behind me.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

"Speak."

As soon as I hear his voice, my patience and calm facade is shattered.

"You should know better than to kill off your best source of information," I spit into the receiver.

"Orihara-san. So nice to hear from you."

I can tell from his voice he means the exact opposite.

"Shiki-san. I advice you to watch your back from now on. If you knew the things I've been through thanks to your mindless minions-"

"You are in no position to threaten me, Orihara," the voice makes me wonder if someone can be killed by a sound. "I sent my men to give you what you deserved."

"You didn't even give me a chance to do your bidding!"

"_You_ didn't give _me _a chance to tell you what my bidding was," comes the gruff reply. "And I gave you _two_ chances, Orihara-kun."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know very well what I'm talking about. I don't enjoy being stood up, especially as someone as knowledgeable of our history as you. It makes you seem… untrustworthy. Now hang up the phone and vanish, or I'll send out another group of men to do the job for you. And I assure you, this time, they won't fail."

"Wait, what do you mean I didn't show up?" I yell, but the voice has been replaced by a faint beeping. I hang up, staring at the dial as if it holds the answers.

_I don't enjoy being stood up._

_I gave you two chances._

I… never went to the meeting? No. I went. I definitely did. I even have to vials to prove it!

Oh. Shizuo has the vials.

Which means, Shiki-san and his men are in on this as well.

I punch the dial, the pressure inside me building up to a scream. Can I trust no one? Has everyone betrayed me?

I call Namie, and she sounds predictably pissed off at the sound of my voice.

"Come home. By tonight," I say.

"But-"

I hang up, not letting her argue. I know she'll come. Even if everyone else has deceived me, Namie will stay by my side. Because if there's one thing Namie's good for, it's her love of paychecks.

I open the phone booth, feeling more alone than I ever thought possible. The boy is standing there, holding his hand out to me, and I feel tears prick at my eyes.

"No," I say, taking his hand. "You haven't betrayed me, have you?"

"Not unless you want me to," he says.

I smile, leading him away and toward Namie's apartment. We hold hands the whole way, and for a moment, I wish he was the real one, and I was his hallucination. Things would be so much easier if I didn't exist.

* * *

><p><em>Time: 6:15 pm<br>Location: Namie's floor again  
>Status: relieved<em>

Namie is standing in her doorway, yelling at me for the mess I've made, and telling me off for wearing her clothes. My heart swells for my assistant. She's acting completely like she normally does. I'm glad she doesn't have a social life. This way, she doesn't get caught up in evil schemes and deceitful plots against her employer.

I decide to tell her everything, but I leave out the getting–raped-on-her-carpet part. I need somewhere to stay, and I think I can use her to my advantage if she knows who to trust and who not to trust. I tell her that Dotachin is probably safe, since he saved my life despite Shinra's plans, and I watch her carefully as I finish recapping what she missed on her vacation time. She seems like she believes me. She's a little unsure, of course, but who wouldn't be after that imbroglio of a story?

Finally, she says, "I'm going to make some tea," and leaves the boy and me on the couch. He's still holding my hand, and I'm okay with that. It's not like Namie can see me showing my weak side to my imaginary accomplice.

As I wait for Namie to return, I begin to feel uneasy. She seems to be taking a long time making tea. After ten minutes, she returns with a tray, and sets it down with no emotion. Tch, typical. I don't drink the tea though, for fear of her having poisoned it (plus, I must admit, I haven't had a cup of tea since the incident with the alcohol).

Namie's eyes flicker toward the clock, and my uneasiness is heightened.

"Waiting for something?" I ask. Namie jumps, looking at me nervously.

"No! I mean, well, it's just a bit… you know…"

I cock my head to the side and smile. "A bit what, Namie-san? You can tell my the truth~"

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. "A bit awkward, having you in my house."

"Haha! Oh!" I laugh, causing Namie to twitch. And here I am, ready to throw out the last person that I can use to my advantage, over something as silly as _awkwardness._

The boy squeezes my hand suddenly. "She's betrayed us," he whispers.

I'm about to ask what he means when there's a knock on the door.

"Oh, who could that possibly be?" Namie gets up a little too quickly, and her relief is evident. I narrow my eyes, watching her move.

"Namie," I say, and she freezes with her hand outstretched out for the doorknob. "If you open that door, there will be consequences_._"

The knocks repeat, and Namie hesitates. I intensify my glare.

"This is for your own good, Izaya," she says, before opening the door.

I jump up, but it's to late. My escape routes are limited to either fighting through the door to freedom, or jumping to my death through the window.

Instead of escaping, I charge at Namie. She was the last person I had faith in, and I should have known better than to trust in _anyone. _I am the only person in my world. I have never relied on others, so did I think now would be a good time?

The men at the door reach me before I can get close enough to kill her. They wrestle me down, and I feel something sharp poke the side of my ass.

Sedatives.

My muscles relax, and I fight to stay conscious. The boy is somewhere off in the distance, running away from me, but I want to tell him not to go. I don't want him to leave me again.

And the last thing I think of, before everything goes black for the umpteenth time in these past few weeks, is about how hungry I still am.

* * *

><p><em>Time: there aren't any clocks in here<br>Location: It's white like Heaven, but the atmosphere reeks of Hell.  
>Status: loopy<em>

I wake up in a bright room with no windows. I'm strapped to a bed, and I immediately think of the different horror movies this could possibly be.

The only door clicks open, and a man in a lab coat walks through. The sound out in the hall is overwhelming. People are screaming, laughing, and singing manically. A woman is dragged past my door, her hair sticking to the top of her head like a bird's nest, while nurses follow behind with what looks like a straight jacket.

I suddenly don't need to hear what the doctor in my room is about to say to know exactly where I am.

I'm in a psyche ward.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I just want to thank so many of you for motivating me to finish this chapter! My life as an author would be nothing without you.

I hope this wasn't complete shit! But here comes the fun chapters~!

*Oh, and I had such a hard time not making a gangsta comment when I mentioned Bow Tie…

**Love, CircusRunaway**

_For those of you who are confused, copy and paste this into your URL (replace the space with a period) for an explanation: **tumblr com/ZyCjFxCvO_VO**  
><em>


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